Fragments
by Written Parody
Summary: Ten random prompts, ten Hurt!Zuko oneshots/drabbles. Rated T for violence, blood and a little bit of romance. Features some Zutara.
1. Fluffy

**A very important AN: **So I know myself pretty well by now. And I know that during exams I have the inescapable desire to write fanfiction. I'm a born procrastinator, what can I say? The problem, this time around, is that I know I'll have no muse: all of it was sucked from me whilst writing the other fics I've recently spewed to the world. And I really don't want to start a multi-chap, full-on fic: that would be suicide.

And thus I turned to my good friend DefyGravity2502. I asked her to give me ten random words. I would then attempt to turn each word into a Hurt!Zuko oneshot or drabble. Because I love that genre of fic so much (it's actually starting to worry and scare me) and because if I write romance in the state of Exam Stress I might just mentally scar some people for life.

I regretted my decision the moment she sent me the words. Why? Because _they're terrible_. Did you hear that, Deffie? THEY'RE TERRIBLE. Nonetheless, I've had to deal with them. (*glares* I will get you back.) But because the prompts are almost impossible and my writing… well, it leaves a lot to be desired at the _best _of times this fic carries **A warning. Read at your own risk.** I certainly cannot guarantee that any of these will be any form of 'acceptable' at all. They're mostly just a stress-reliving, fetish-satisfying… _mess_.

Oh! And if you're really squeamish or a vegetarian you might want to give this one a miss… Although there isn't much Hurt!Zuko… Hopefully there's enough to make it pass… *worries*

**Disclaimer**: Avatar is not mine. The prompts are not mine. The slight and inescapable guilt of making Zuko suffer is mine.

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><p><span>Fluffy <span>

At that exact moment in time he was damning Katara to the depths of Koh's lair. He was a _Firebender _for Agni's sake; a son of fire who had spent most of his life in a land rife with volcanoes and seemingly endless summers. And he could have stayed in that wonderful, glorious land if it weren't for her. He could have married a nice Fire Nation noble and could have subsequently spent all his days lazing in the sun and complaining about the heat.

But _no_. She just _had _to flaunt her way into his path. She just had to be beautiful and fiery and passionate and kind and caring and infuriating and stubborn and so Agni-damned _easy_ to love. And she just _had _to have those amazing blue eyes that could break down his barriers and make him agree to almost anything. Like agreeing to go back with her to the Agni-damned _South Pole_. And _then_- as if being half frozen in a foreign land whilst being scrutinized by your girlfriend's family wasn't bad enough- those idiotic, damned _peasant _boys had to go and challenge him.

He might have still been able to ignore their jibes that he was unsuitable as a husband for Katara. As if he would ever care what _they _thought. If they were barbaric enough to think that a 'good husband' had to be able to carve Water Tribe weaponry and hunt South Pole animals then good for them. But Katara, it seemed, did not share his view. Her face had been so humiliated and so… so _crushed_…

And _that _was why he found himself in the middle of _nowhere_, freezing half to death with nothing but a spear and an old Water Tribe parka. He hadn't even been given a _new _parka; one that still had all its fur- it's warmth!- still intact. Oh _no_. He was supposed to _earn_ that. Great lot of help it would do if he killed himself before then.

And so, it was safe to say that Zuko was not a very happy person. He'd always deemed the men around him who had gone to great lengths to protect 'their girl's honour' as idiots who didn't see the correct path in life. He wondered if the Spirits were simply getting him back for his past sneers. He wondered if begging them for forgiveness would make even the sign of an animal appear so he could kill the thing, return to the village, save Katara's name and be _warm_ again.

In utter frustration he breathed fire onto his hands, relishing in the ability to _feel _something again. "You better be so damned happy when I get back you can puke rainbows, Katara," he growled to the expansion of ice around him.

All he got in reply was another gust of icy wind swirling around him. With a snarl of impatience he began to stomp onwards, forcing himself not to turn around and gaze longingly at the thin wisps of smoke in the background that told him the Southern Water Tribe was warm and cozy by their numerous fires. He'd contemplated turning back many times. But even though he was almost frozen all the way through to his inner fire- something he hadn't deemed possible until then- he knew he couldn't return empty handed. Katara's honour was his honour too. And he refused to let go of his honour ever again.

Finally, just when he was contemplating finding some sort of shelter where he could crawl up and remain forever, a movement caught his eye. He froze and waited with bated breath and strained ears. A half-smirk, half giddily relieved smile crossed his face as he heard the unmistakable shuffling of an animal. He guessed it was a Tiger Seal; the footsteps were too heavy to be anything else. This made him hopeful; Tiger Seals were pack animals and so if one was alone it was very possible that it was already old or sick. Or both. Slinking into a near-crouch, Zuko crept forward with all the stealth he had, spear clutched at the ready. He cautiously stuck his head around the outcrop of ice and felt his stomach sink.

It was _not_ a Tiger Seal, and it was in no way old or sick. It was a young, healthy and almost impossibly massive male Polar Leopard who obviously hadn't found himself a mate yet. Zuko grit his teeth and shut his eyes. Things could never be easy for him, could they? His prey would by no means be easy to kill. In fact, he wasn't past doubting that he could actually kill it. But, then again… It was the first animal he'd seen in _hours_. And bringing it back would most certainly bring the Water Tribe equivalent of honour to him and Katara.

The Firebender opened his eyes and looked the still oblivious Polar Leopard up and down critically. Zuko's ego wanted to be able to describe the animal instantly as 'ferocious' or 'violent'. But the first description his brain came up with was, honestly, 'fluffy'. He was sure the fur on the thing would provide blankets for the entire village.

"Well," he murmured to himself. "I guess that settles it, then."

Tightening his grip on his Water Tribe spear- it was so unfair that he wasn't allowed to use Firebending, honestly- he inched forward bit by bit until his body was aligned completely with the beast's. Then, taking a deep breath, he charged. The sound of his running footsteps alerted his prey, but it was too late for the leopard to do anything except howl in pain as Zuko's spear hit its mark. The Firebender grit his teeth as warm blood gushed over his hands. But instead of sinking to the floor like Zuko expected, the Polar Leopard gave a roar of rage and flung the boy away as though he was a cumbersome bug. Zuko felt the wind being knocked out of him but quickly turned his head back towards the Polar Leopard. It was wounded but it was still very much alive. And it was also very ticked off.

Zuko swore, loudly, as the Polar Leopard charged him, teeth bared and eyes spitting. He managed to roll away seconds before a huge half-ton of meat would have been on him. He stayed on his haunches, ignoring the biting cold of the ice beneath him as he wearily eyed his quarry. The Polar Leopard snarled at him, a sound like ripping material mixed with the sharpening of a knife. Okay, so _now _Zuko's mind could honestly describe the thing as 'ferocious'. But in order for him to live to tell the tale of the fluffy-but-ferocious one he had to be able to kill it before it killed him. And that meant he had to get his spear back. Which meant that he'd have to charge straight at the massive, ticked-off animal. Brilliant.

Mentally telling himself that no girl was worth _this _he grit his teeth and charged at the leopard. Seeing its enemy advancing the wounded animal howled and charged also. It was only because Zuko was much more agile that the two didn't end in a head-on collision. As it was the nimble Firebender managed to slip to the side at the last minute, his hands catching hold of the spear still imbedded into the bleeding animal's side. Zuko tugged with all his might and the spear thankfully came loose, the action causing the Polar Leopard to bellow and snap harshly at the source of his pain. Zuko, off balance at the sudden give of the spear, wasn't lucky enough to escape unscathed that time.

The Firebender bit back curses as the leopard's teeth sank into his shoulder, biting deep and tearing the flesh as he twisted away. Now the blood that scattered around them on the ice was a mixture of Fire Nation human and South Pole leopard. Sensing the weakness in its enemy the Polar Leopard charged again, its wound making it half crazed in desperation and pain. The Firebender managed to roll out of the way in time but he slipped as he landed, causing him to twist his ankle as he stumbled. Biting back a yelp of pain he instantly tried to massage the throbbing appendage better with no success. As he worked, hissing out profanities, his quarry stumbled on the ice too, the loss of blood finally seeming to take some toll on it. But then the beast shook its head, regained its footing and charged again, as fully intent on killing Zuko as he had been on killing it.

With a snarl Zuko slashed his spear out at the advancing leopard, catching it across its jaw and earning his ears another snarl and the ice more blood. The Polar Leopard retaliated by swiping a clawed paw in Zuko's direction; an appendage that the Firebender only just missed. The beast advanced even further, great body heaving and dangerous, and Zuko did the first thing his instincts told him to: he thrust the spear towards the animal even though it was too far away for his weapon to hit home and then, when the animal's attention was diverted, he flung himself at it, catching hold of its neck and yanking himself as much onto its back as he could.

The Polar Leopard did not like this at all, but its attempts to bite its adversary in half were met by the stinging blow of the spear the man carried. Zuko held on as the leopard tried to throw him off, aware that he was in a strategic position. If he could just get a good enough grip to be able to raise his spear… The Polar Leopard, having none of it, suddenly flung itself sideways onto the ground, pinning Zuko between its body and the hard ice. As he made impact with the ground Zuko heard an ominous, yet faint, cracking noise. The sound was followed shortly by waves of pain that shot throughout his entire body from his left shoulder. Unable to stop the cry of pain from leaving his lips he was left gasping and gritting his teeth against the ache as the Polar Leopard lumbered to its feet again.

He tried to move; tried to get up so he could fight and save his skin. But even the smallest of movements sent waves of pain crashing through his system and he was left on the ice, being soaked through by the snow, as the Polar Leopard charged yet again. Zuko saw it coming, saw the death in its eyes and knew he had to act fast. Gritting his teeth against the pain he knew was to come, he flung himself slightly to the right and grabbed hold of his spear. He spun just in time to have the Polar Leopard leap straight into the point as it tried to get hold of the jugular of its enemy. More warm blood soaked down Zuko's arms as the Polar Leopard collapsed on top of him. Suddenly, breathing was difficult: he was being crushed under the weight of his quarry.

"Sure," he panted at it through clenched teeth. "_Now _you die."

The thick fur was smothering him, cutting off the little air he would still have been able to inhale even with the massive weight on his chest. He wondered, almost vaguely, what the Fire Nation Council would think if they were to receive news that their Fire Lord had died by being smothered to death by a giant ball of fur. He could actually think of a few people who would find it amusing. With a growl that earned him his first taste of Polar Leopard fur- not something pleasant- he began to shove the beast off of him. The task was a lot harder than it sounded, given that he could only use one arm and none of his legs.

Eventually he managed to wiggle free and allowed himself to lie, panting and hissing in pain, on the ice. After he caught his breath back he slowly began to assess the damage. The worst was definitely his left shoulder: it was still bleeding slightly from the gashes left by the Polar Leopard's teeth and his fall on top of it had obviously not done any good. Slowly he experimented and found- to his chagrin- that he couldn't even move his fingers without sending jolts of pain down his limb. Giving it up as a lost cause the Firebender decided to leave it in the position it was currently in- curled uselessly against his side- and instead focused on the rest of his body. He had minor bruises and bumps elsewhere but nothing else was too major. His head throbbed but his thinking, vision and balance were still intact so he ignored that little fact and continued in straightening up. The ankle he had landed on twinged rather badly but held his weight, causing him to dismiss it as well.

The Firebender was now forced to turn his attention to the next problem: how to get the Polar Leopard back to the Southern Water Tribe. This dilemma had him stumped for quite a while. He was battered, one arm short, exhausted and freezing and the Polar Leopard was much heavier than him. As he stood, shivering and swaying slightly, he honestly had a moment where he wondered if it was not better to just leave the thing there. He had killed it, after all, and six other Water Tribe people were much more suited for carrying the dead thing back than he was. The memory of sneering lips and taunting blue eyes so unlike the azure ones he loved had him banish the thought. Even if it killed him he would return to that village victorious.

Narrowing his eyes and subconsciously curling in to cradle his left arm to his chest better, Zuko looked the animal over and tried to remember if anybody had ever told him about the easiest way to get a massive dead animal back to a rather distant village. After a while an idea formed and he prayed to the Spirits that it would work; without it he was rather doomed. Limping slightly he heated the fingers of his right hand- they'd only forbid him from using Firebending to actually kill the thing- and began tracing them in a square around the fallen animal. To his satisfaction the ice was not too thick and it melted and broke under his bending until, with a thunderous crack, the fallen Polar Leopard was lying on a slab of ice that was completely disconnected with the rest of the frozen tundra.

The next part would be the trickiest: pull the frozen block out of the hole it was currently in so that the Polar Leopard could be pulled along to the Southern Water Tribe on its home-made sleigh. For the first time in his life, Zuko wished he could Waterbend. Then he could just make the ice simply rise up and all his problems would be solved. Instead he had to toil, using his spear as a lever to shift the ice along in agonizingly small bits at a time. Eventually the slab of ice he'd broken off lay on the flat surface of the iced-over land, looking so innocent one might have thought it had just landed there with no effort at all.

The Fire Lord was the only evidence that was contrary to the innocence of the ice. He was sweating profusely and shaking with near exhaustion. If he'd bothered to look at himself in the ice he possibly would have noticed the greenish tinge to his face. As it was he was making himself focus solely on his task; thinking about anything else would probably cause the miraculous energy to drain out of him as quickly as it had come. Stumbling forward he drove his spear into the front of the ice block, shoving it as far as it would go without breaking the ice, the spear or his one good arm. He suddenly found that he was leaning on the spear, breath coming in gasps that panged his still-useless arm and causing pretty little tufts of white air to form around him every now and then.

His knees buckled and he found himself sliding further down to the ground, only just upright because of the steadfast spear. His eyelids felt heavy; it would be so good to just fall asleep right then and there. The cold would go away. His aching body could get rest. His head would cease to try and impersonate his uncle's favourite drum. He would possibly even be free of the dull agony of the object that had been a fully working arm not too long ago. Blearily the Firebender stared at the spear so close to his eyes. His mind took him back to his two weapons: his double broadswords and his treasured dagger.

"Never give up without a fight," he murmured to himself.

_You did fight_, his thrumming head seemed to plead with him. _You fought really hard. _

Zuko's tired eyes closed. At the back of his lids he envisioned the hot sun or a warm fire. Unbidden, the image of Katara's face swam before his face. She wasn't glowing or smiling or even laughing. But there was that special look in her eyes: the one that could set the world on fire because she willed it to be so.

"Not hard enough," he answered himself.

Slowly he regained his footing, gripping the spear until the world stopped spinning and he found his footing again. Then, being mindful of his arm, he undid the sash that kept his parka closed. The wind was like knives running through his battered body. Gritting his teeth he looped the strong tie- Sokka had told him once it was made from the hide of a Tiger Seal; the strongest leather available to them- around the edge of his spear. He checked that the knot was tight, took up the lax end of the annoyingly short sash and began to pull. Mercifully the ice and its cargo followed him without too much effort.

Zuko had no concept of time as he slowly trudged back to the village. Soon his right arm began to ache too and after a while his limp was very defined but he did not stop. He could not stop; he wasn't sure he'd be able to get going again. He did, however, have to plunge the spear into the ice again twice on his journey. Those ten minutes were the hardest: it would have been so easy to just have crumpled to the floor and slept. He couldn't feel the cold any more but he could still feel his body; how it throbbed and ached and thrummed in symphonies of pain. But he managed to overcome temptation and keep moving. He managed to never let his stumbles turn into actual falls. He managed not to move his left arm enough to turn the dull ache into waves of agony again.

He managed – Agni knew how – to reach the village again.

He didn't realize he'd reached it until his head connected with the newly constructed wall of ice. His headache flared in protest with the contact but his tired brain took another minute or two to connect the high wall of ice with his own salvation. Shortly after piecing the puzzle together a shout tore through the air.

"He's back! Hey, hey guys! He's back!"

Zuko looked blearily around for the young boy, but the messenger had already scampered out of sight to bring the rest of the village so that they could judge if Zuko had passed the test or not. With fingers that fumbled from cold and exhaustion and pain from being rubbed raw by a leather sash Zuko clumsily undid the knot and messily tied the sash around his waist again, not caring that it was lopsided. Immune to the cold by then he quickly dunked his less injured arm into one of the barrels of Agni-knew-what and water that framed the gate to the village and wiped off the worst of the blood from him. He really didn't need to go in looking like he'd taken part in a massacre. Then he dragged the spear out from the ice almost blearily and then- with as deep of a breath as he could manage- he used the last of his strength to half raise the dead Polar Leopard onto his shoulder.

His entire body quaked with the effort at once but he knew he would only have to hold on for a few moments. A few moments and then the rest of the village would be there. Then he could drop the blastedly heavy animal at their feet, revel in his victory with an overly large smug smirk and finally, _finally _collapse somewhere. Sure enough it was under half a minute later when people came crawling from the village. The boys- for that was how Zuko saw them. Insignificant little boys- who had challenged him came out first. Their skeptic or smug faces bled into expressions of pure shock. Sokka came out next, saw Zuko's kill and let out a whoop that could have shattered glass. He pulled together a band of friends who swarmed Zuko and took the Polar Leopard from him, heaping congratulations and awed exclamations as they went.

Luck finally seemed to be on the Firebender's side as every one of the Water Tribe people who congratulated him slapped only his uninjured shoulder. And when his kill's weight had been equally distributed amongst eager, excited people the rest of his welcoming party surrounded him in a collectively proud swarm of bodies that half carried him into the safe haven of the Southern Water Tribe. And Zuko actually felt himself grinning slightly too. The excitement and awe of those around him as well as the loss of a very heavy load and the gain of heat made him feel quite a bit better. And then he found himself standing in the midst of the entire village while everybody inspected his very first proper kill and he felt some of the pain melt away as he was allowed to sag against a wall.

His challengers were varying degrees of sour, Master Pakku looked impressed, Hakoda looked almost _proud _of him, Sokka was ecstatic, Katara was murderous and…

Wait. What?

Zuko blinked a couple of times, not quite trusting his muddled brain. But when he looked again Katara's eyes were still spitting the blue fire he knew so well. She'd been the one to want him to go out hunting and when he returned victorious and wounded- not that she knew about the second part- she was _mad _about it. The injustice of it all stung almost as much as his thawing fingers. The content feeling disappeared from Zuko's midsection and he firmly looked anywhere except the Master Waterbender. He refused to sit through one of her lectures after everything he'd done for her. And people called _him _selfish.

As soon as he was sure everybody was engrossed in some other activity he made his swift escape. (Actually, it was more of a slow, painful wobbling retreat but nobody had to know that.) He half dragged himself into the room he was staying in and would have flung himself down on his sleeping mat if it was humanly possible for his body to perform such an action at that point. As it was he limped heavily over to the bundle of blankets and then just sort of collapsed, being sure to land on his right side. The impact jarred his body and for a few moments he was being washed over by waves of pain.

But the tide washed him out onto a sandy beach of only dull throbbing again and he was sure, as he allowed his eyes to close, that he had reached a paradise. He would stay there for as long as he could. And if Katara came to find him he would remain in his blissful position and half-asleep state of mind. He would let her yell and let all of her unjust frustrations out. And he would remain unaffected. He would not start yelling back or do anything else of the sort that would give her the satisfaction of conflict or- even worse- the knowledge that he was wounded and weak. No, he would remain utterly still. He was utterly calm.

The door to his room hit the wall as it was flung open.

"You are such a jerk!"

And with those five angrily spat out words his utter calm evaporated like a single drop of water in the desert.

"You don't get to be mad," he snapped at her, opening one eye to glare at her fuming form in his doorway.

Her eyes narrowed even more, her hands finding their accustomed spots on her hips. "I have every damned right to be mad!"

He sat up to face her and hid his moan of pain in a snarl of frustration. "You acted like you wanted me to go! If you didn't want me to go then you should have _said something_." He was highly irritated and more than just a little frustrated. He swore to Agni that if he'd gone through all of that for _nothing_… "You can't act like you want me to do something and not say anything contrary to your actions and then expect me to know what you're thinking or what you really want!"

Her brow knit together even tighter and her arms crossed across her chest; a sign of self-protection. "I…" Her voice was slightly guilty. "I did want you to go." She worried at her bottom lip with her teeth, the fight knocked out of her. "I know it's silly and… and barbaric, I suppose but traditions… And it's what I grew up with…"

Zuko wasn't listening to her pleading explanations or self-justifications. He was too busy glaring at her in exasperation. "Then _what _is your _problem_?"

The fight returned to her at once, her shoulders stiffening. "You took too long!" she yelled back.

He seriously felt like _punching _something. "I didn't know there was a time limit!" And then, louder, to prove his point, "Nobody told me there was a time limit!"

"There isn't!" she yelled back hotly, her arms still tightly crossed against her chest.

He just stared at her, starting to wonder if he wasn't having a fevered dream because, really, she wasn't making _any sense_. His exhaustion, the aches running riot through his body and his naturally short temper were nearly driving him to something drastic. Luckily his brain was too befuddled to come up with an action or phrase drastic enough to voice his frustration.

"What?" was the eloquent response he came up with instead.

Katara actually blushed. Then shifted from foot to foot. And, suddenly, she couldn't seem to look him in the face. "Sokka only takes about two hours. Four at the most. You were gone almost _all day_. And it was your first time out there. And it's really cold right now and I began to think… Then you just waltz in here without a care in the world after I've been _stuck _here all day wo-" She broke off abruptly, her face flaming.

Zuko honestly didn't know what to feel. "You're mad at me… because you were worried about me?" he questioned slowly, trying to catch up to the mysterious workings of her brain.

Her defensive, embarrassed huff was answer enough. He felt like facepalming himself.

"I can look after myself," he reminded her, less gruff than before. A lot less gruff.

She sighed and finally brought her gaze back to his. "I know. It's just… even you can't stay immune forever. And if something had happened… It would have been my fault. It was me who made you go out there, really. And I… I've been the cause of your injuries too many times."

It was at that exact moment that Zuko swore he'd much sooner have another round with the Polar Leopard than let her know that he was injured. Her guilt tasted like acid on his own tongue.

"You mother too much," he accused lightly, slowly lying back down in what he hoped was a casual manner. He didn't think passing out- a sure happening if he stayed sitting upright- would keep her convinced that he was fine.

"Somebody has to," she sighed softly, giving him a warm smile.

"What happened while I was gone?" In a city rebuilding itself with the help of new citizens who had immigrated from the north there was always an interesting story or five at the end of every day.

Katara launched into one such story, her eyes and hands animated as she retold it. He found that although he was slightly captivated by her energy her voice was oddly lulling. Before he knew it his eyes were closed again, his throbbing body and head trembling as it realized just how cold he really had been. But it was okay now. He was inside on soft, warm blankets. He didn't have to move. And if he stayed still for long enough even the pounding behind his ears would fade away to black…

"Zuko? Zuko! Are you even listening to me?"

Her words took an awfully long time to reach his brain. By the time he was struggling to open his eyes she had already started towards him, causing the first thing he saw to be her concerned face. He mentally groaned and was about to tell her he was fine when her fingers reached his forehead. Concern turned to mild alarm.

"You're burning up."

_Can't be_, he wanted to argue, _I'm _cold.

Her eyes narrowed and, a moment too late, he realized he must have said some of his thought out loud. Her fingers gently stroked his head in tender compassion before she rose and left the room. He was sad to see her go, but her absence meant he could _finally _get to sleep. No sooner had he thought it than she was back, armed with a fresh set of clothes.

"You have to get warm," she explained. He mumbled his refusal to move and she growled. "Zuko." Another mumbled, garbled 'no'. "Zuko! Take off your clothes!" she commanded.

Mildly he noted that every fantasy he'd had of her saying those exact words had been far better than the reality he was facing right then. When her cheeks and neck stained blood red he realized he must have said _that _out loud too. Oops. Good thing they were alone. She recovered from her embarrassment and reached down to help him up and get him undressed herself. Unfortunately rough hands plus injured arm never did make a good combination.

The Waterbender unknowingly moved Zuko's injured arm away from his body, and the Firelord was sure he was going to pass out right there and then. Pain ripped through him, leaving stars sparkling before his eyes and the desire to be disconnected from his body. Unchecked, curses poured from his mouth in shuddering gasps as he half-writhed and shuddered in pain. Vaguely he could hear Katara's alarmed voice trying to calm him, but he was too preoccupied with not puking on her shoes to really notice much. And then, suddenly, he found himself being flipped onto his unhurt side by strong yet gentle hands. He shuddered as the pain dulled and, after a while, felt the cool fingers stroking his cheek.

Katara's face swam into view, and her expression was a mixture of worry, guilt, murderous anger and pure anxiety. Seeing his return to alertness her mouth formed a thin line and she glared menacingly down at him. "What did you do?" Her tone left no room for lies or euphemisms or arguments.

"Shoulder," he sighed, defeated. "Leopard ripped it. Fell on it. Twisted ankle. Head hurts."

Katara's fingers lingered on his head, gently trying to smooth the pain away, before her hands disappeared. They reappeared moments later, covered in shining blue water. She attended to his shoulder first, gasping as she assessed the damage.

"You've dislocated it." She sounded disapproving: her coping method with the knowledge that he was in pain.

"Yo'cn fixzit," he sighed confidently.

He was rewarded by a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "You're going to have to keep it still for a few days."

He grunted his consent and the Waterbender worked her magic on him, mercifully easing the pain until it was a manageable throb. She then ran her hands over his torso and shoulders- an action he was too buffered by fever to even enjoy- looking for any other major injuries. She healed the worst of his bruising, mended the damaged skin on his right hand, tended to his ankle, and then helped him sit up so they could remove his wet clothes.

As tired and delirious as he was, he couldn't help but smirk at her as she began to undo his parka. She saw the look, blushed a deep crimson that reminded him forcefully of home, and glared at him. "Don't even _think_ along those lines. You're sick and hurt."

"Right," he chuckled back, reveling in the warmth of her body.

"Ass," she growled, her red face and twitching mouth betraying her.

They managed to get Zuko redressed without any further incident and the Firebender collapsed onto the sleeping mat, fully intending to sleep no matter what. His injured arm was wrapped snugly to his side and he was warm enough to be comfortable, even with his still-present headache and the chills from his fever. His happy bubble punctured a bit, however, when Katara got up to leave.

"You can't go." He'd meant for it to sound commanding, arrogant and forceful. It came out rather pathetic.

Katara giggled. "I have to watch you until your fever breaks. But there's one thing I have to do first." She shot him a sarcastic smirk. "Don't die while I'm gone."

He was half asleep- already caught up in the half-memory and half-delusion of a fever dream- when she returned, dragging something with her. She draped the something around him gently, and the weight that settled over him was comfortable and promised a lot of warmth.

"You earned it," she explained in a soothing whisper, dragging him further back into sleep. "It's yours now."

Vaguely his fingers stroked his new blanket. As its warmth washed over him he realized his first assessment had been right, after all: the Polar Leopard had been, above all, extremely fluffy.

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><p><strong>AN 2: <strong>Zuko on a hunting trip has always been at the back of my mind. I originally planned for him to go on one as a part of a multi-chapter I've had in my head for years. So if, one day, you see something similar to this in a fic I write you'll know why.

Again I ask for forgiveness for the utter lameness.


	2. Walls

**AN: **To make up for the crazy length of the last one this one will be my first attempt at a drabble. Let's see if it's humanly possible for me to write something under 500 words. This one is a sort of AU glimpse into 'The Boiling Rock' episodes.

"Thanks" again to Deffie for the prompt. (You know I still feel affection to you and your writing, anyway :P)

**Warning: **More violence and gore. I had a crap week and I'm venting here. Sorry, sensitive readers.

**Disclaimer: **Not mine. Or the 'Boiling Rock' would have been… well…

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><p><span>2. Walls <span>

The first time he'd heard of the ritual (there wasn't really a better word to describe it) he'd scoffed in scorn and arrogance. It hadn't concerned him, though: what the barbarians in prison wanted to do with themselves was none of his concern. He was on a mission to find the Avatar. So what if those sentenced to flogging as punishment wrote the total of their beatings on the walls in their own blood?

Two years later the stories were a much bigger part of his imminent reality. It was hard to dismiss the knowledge of walls coated in bloody tallies when you were staring at them with your own eyes. That was what they were to him when he was first shoved into the concealed room just to the right of the freezers: a confirmed myth. They changed to a kind of morbid objects of curiosity to him next, while The Warden snarled and grunted behind him, demanding information Zuko would rather die than give.

The walls changed to his anchor as the whip bit into his flesh. Komodo Rhino leather woven with glass and- sometimes, if you were _really lucky_- barbs from a thorn tree that stayed, festering, in your flesh for weeks. Staring at the smudged, faded crimson numbers was the only thing that kept him sane. It was the only thing that kept his screams locked inside his body, the only thing that kept him from bowing to the ground and writhing in the agony. Somehow, the fact that many more people had endured his torment was the thing that kept him conscious as his skin split open and his feet got bathed in his blood.

Sokka believed he was only going to the coolers. He would have lived in a cooler for the rest of his life to avoid the _other_ room. But Sokka could not know. This was his battle. Always hit battle. Besides, if the Water Tribe warrior attempted to do something stupid like save him…

When he was thrown back in his cell he allowed himself to curse and scream into the threadbare blanket he was allowed. Every movement was agony. The wrong movements caused old cuts to tear open again. He'd lost count of the times he'd thrown up or gagged in the corner of his cell.

By the time Sokka had a plan he was almost ready to break. Almost, but not quite. The distraction his friend had planned mercifully started around the thirteenth lash of the day. While the Warden rushed out to curb the riot, Zuko allowed himself to sink to the floor. Then, slowly, gritting his teeth against the ripping pain of every move, he pulled himself to the corner of the room.

He added his tally to the walls.

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><p><strong>AN 2: <strong>HA! Under 500 =D And more crap than ever before :/ Oh well. At least it's something… right? Yeah. I didn't think so, either. This one was actually written spontaneously as chapter one uploaded onto . Dunno WHERE it popped from. *shrugs*


	3. Skin

**An: **My exams got really intense. That's my excuse for not having this one up sooner. That, and the fact that this prompt gave me sooo much hassle. There was always the temptation to go cliché and simple and use 'Zuko just got scarred by Ozai' and rant on and on about that. But my muse refused to yield. It was all, "You actually managed to cough up something that wasn't entirely repulsive for the prompt _fluffy_. We. Are. Going. Original."

Not that it gave me anything original to do until yesterday. But, you know: we don't judge and all that. Right. And, just btw, the first bit of this comes straight from the episode. Maybe if I didn't get sidetracked watching the whole thing after getting the part I needed this would have been up even sooner. But can you blame me for not switching off _Avatar_?

I do apologise for this one because it has me butchering Iroh again. I got all confident from not screwing him up in _Senses _so I decided, "Let's write him again!" and I ended up… Yeahhh… Well. It could have been worse, right? (I'm sincerely hoping so.) The other thing I NEED to say is that father/son Irko is just pure love. PURE LOVE.

Deffie, TCR is nearly overdue again. And I wants me some blood. *stare*

**Disclaimer**: It no belonging to me.

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><p><strong>Skin<strong>

"So Uncle, I've been thinking." The Firebender paused to pour another cup of tea, barely reigning in his desperation. He'd been thinking about how to phrase his next words since he'd found the abandoned house they currently sat in. If his uncle said no, they were doomed. "It's only a matter of time before I run into Azula again. I'm going to need to know more advanced Firebending if I want to stand a chance against her." His next words were almost rushed as his desperation began to show through. "I know what you're gonna say: she's my sister and I should be trying to get along with her…"

Before he could add his 'but' and the clever reasoning he had spent hours painfully putting together his uncle interrupted him.

"No." Relief coursed through his veins. "She's crazy and she needs to go down."

And then the impact of his words hit Zuko and a small wave of sadness and regret washed through him. If Uncle Iroh- believer in all things good to a point beyond annoyance- agreed that Azula was beyond helping then… He almost felt sorry for her. But the moment passed as he remembered all she had done and he nodded, his resolve back in place.

His resolve hardened as he watched his uncle have to struggle to stand up. The retired general's moans made his stomach grow hot with anger and his fingers curl tighter around the cup he was holding. He wanted to help but he knew there was nothing he could do. He was clumsy with that sort of thing; way out of his depth. And so he pushed the concern away and looked up curiously at his uncle, waiting to see what the man was up to that time.

"It's time to resume your training."

The younger Firebender almost jerked back in surprise. For a second he thought his uncle was telling another one of his very bad jokes, but the seriousness in the older man's eyes was enough to kill that theory at once. Zuko's expression became something like blank shock as he stared.

"_Now_?" Iroh raised an eyebrow. "But… But… you're hurt!"

"I'm fine, my nephew. The sooner we start the more time we have to hone your skills." Zuko's eyes slid away from his gaze to the ground, a sure sign that he was hiding something. "It was your idea to become stronger to face your sister, Prince Zuko."

"Yeah of course…"

Suspicion arose in Iroh as he stared down at his nephew. Zuko was a little too calm, a little too rational and a little too still. He had never hesitated at the offer of more training before. In fact, it had always been the opposite; he had always craved the knowledge, fought to gain it, fought to master it. Add that to the fact that his rivalry with his sister had never exactly been small and his hesitance was a worrying thing indeed. But then the younger Firebender's eyes met his again with their usual burning determination and Iroh felt the suspicion drain out of him.

However it returned in full force only moments later when Zuko seemed to struggle to stand. The ex-prince did not wince or let out a sound but Iroh knew that that meant nothing- Zuko had grown accustomed to hiding his pain. Iroh's gut clenched as he noted that his nephew was favouring his left side as he stood with his face blank of any emotion. Iroh, mindful of his injury, moved forward slowly. Zuko did not back away or shift back, two reactions that were as reflex as breathing to the boy by then. Iroh frowned.

"What's wrong?" Zuko asked him, eyes flickering outside in caution.

"I could ask you the same question, Prince Zuko."

"Nothing." The reply was far too quick.

"Prince Zuko-"

"Nothing's wrong, Uncle!" The anger was back in his eyes and his voice. But he still hadn't stiffened until he was at his full height like he usually did when he got confronted.

"Then I don't see why we cannot train shirtless."

As he had suspected, Zuko's eyes slid away from his again. "No."

"Is there a problem, my nephew?"

"No! I just don't want to train without my shirt!"

This time when Iroh advanced Zuko did step back. He seemed to sway for a moment until he got his balance again and Iroh was sure he had winced.

"Prince Zuko, remove your shirt, please."

"_No_."

The old general could see the defiant anger raging inside his nephew and he felt a pang of sadness. There had been so much damage done to Zuko's heart and soul. And he was so worried that not all of it would be healed in the end.

"Why won't you remove your shirt?" His voice was calm and polite; reasoning always worked.

"Because I don't want to!" And then, spat out in arrogance, "Because I don't have to listen to you!"

Iroh sighed and rubbed his bandaged shoulder wearily. Some of the fight left the young Firebender before him as his eyes flickered down to the bandages. Iroh, who still had the years of army training embedded in him, saw his chance and took it. Before Zuko could back up any farther he was right in front of his nephew, grasping hold of his tunic with his good arm. Zuko snarled and attempted to get him off but he turned his injured side in and the Firebender in his grasp stopped squirming under the threat of hurting his uncle more. Iroh yanked up the shirt and got a glimpse of Zuko's betrayed, angry eyes before a new sight drove them from his head.

Zuko's body was bruised and battered in almost every visible place. Most of the bruises were huge, grotesque things that spread around his white skin in sickening colours. The biggest ones were already yellow-green, although there were some fresh purpling ones in-between. In a sort of horrified curiosity the retired general raised one finger and lightly touched the biggest bruise, a multi-coloured monster that was the reason for Zuko favouring his left. He felt his nephew flinch beneath his touch and hastily drew his hand away.

"Prince Zuko." His voice was soft with shock. "What happened?"

Zuko ripped his tunic away and pulled it down, scowling heavily. "Nothing."

Iroh gripped his shoulder, alarmed to see that this also caused his nephew pain. "The newer ones are from Azula," he prompted, a little desperate. "But the others… Where are they from?"

"It's nothing!" Zuko snapped.

Iroh looked the young man straight in the eyes and Zuko, prideful as always, refused to look away. The silence stretched as the battle of wills continued. Zuko was the one to back down first. Iroh knew that as much as the teen pretended or acted otherwise he did care for his uncle.

"Earthbenders," Zuko mumbled. "I got into a fight."

A thousand images rushed through Iroh's head at lightning speed. Not all of them featured Zuko. The memories of the last time somebody close to him had gone up against Earthbender's made his heart thud and he couldn't help but thank the spirits that Zuko was not badly hurt.

"Did some of the rocks that hit you shatter?" Zuko nodded slowly, looking suspicious. "There will probably be some pieces of rock left in your skin. We must take it out."

He made as if to pull Zuko's tunic up again but Zuko shied away. "I'll do it," he muttered.

Slowly the ex-prince sat down again, this time wincing as the movement wreaked havoc amongst his bruises. Iroh stood quietly and watched, sorrowful at the sight that was before him. Zuko removed his shirt and then set about gently prodding each bruise to check for hidden bits of rock. A prod just a little too hard made him wince or hiss in pain and Iroh felt his heart clench each time. He wanted to help; it would be so much easier if he were the one picking out the shards so Zuko didn't have to twist his body so much. But his nephew's pride was too large and he knew Zuko would never allow him to help until he was sure there was no other way.

The retired general found himself moving closer as Zuko's breathing suddenly hitched. Before he could ask, though, his question was answered: blood began to trickle down Zuko's side from a new wound. With teeth tightly grit Zuko flicked away the small piece of rock that had been inside his flesh a moment earlier. His fingers returned to their work and the trail of blood became thicker. Suddenly the ex-prince was almost doubled over, swearing through a clenched jaw and clutching at his side. Iroh could take no more of it.

He lowered himself next to his nephew and gently pulled Zuko's hands away. Blood smeared onto his own fingers and he had to resist the urge to immediately rub every inch of it out of sight. He had to stay calm. It was hard to remain composed, however, when his second son was shuddering and bleeding before him.

"Why didn't you tell me?" The question had an undertone of helpless hurt.

"Because it doesn't matter," came the harsh reply.

"You know it does matter."

"Just let it go, old man. It isn't even that bad. It doesn't matter."

"Prince Zuko, these may not be serious but they are wounds none the-"

"It doesn't matter!"

"Why not?"

"Because it's just skin!"

The anger in Zuko's eyes now was defensive. Iroh knew at once why the young Firebender was so apposed to this injury. If it didn't matter at all, then the other injury to his skin would not either. And he needed it not to matter. Something- Iroh knew he'd probably never find out what- had renewed Zuko's ever-present disgust for his scar. Something had happened while he was alone that had made him want to bear his punishment alone. Iroh let out a long sigh, feeling suddenly old. The world had been so cruel to the young man before him. Sometimes he wondered why the injustices always had to befall those he loved.

"It'll be easier for me to do it," was all he replied, reaching again for Zuko's side.

This time he was met with no resistance, only a sullen acceptance. He worked as gently and effectively as he could with only one arm, hating every wince or gasp his actions caused. Zuko's blood ran over his hand and he was sure he would never get the image from his overcrowded brain. And then came the major obstacle.

The piece of rock was larger than the others and the skin had already begun to scab over it. To get it out would cause a lot of pain, but it had to be done. Steeling himself he told Zuko to hold still and then began peeling back the scab as gently as he could. Zuko stiffened at once and Iroh suddenly knew, with a sinking heart, that this would be even worse than he thought.

The scab was stubborn and no matter how he tried he could not get it away. Every try was more painful than the last for his nephew and Iroh knew he had to hurry. Finally, however, he managed to rip the dead skin away. Zuko actually cried out, his hands curling into fists as his face twisted. Iroh apologized over and over as he used the hem of Zuko's shirt to stem the flow of blood. Zuko did not reply, not even to insult him. He wasn't sure if that was good or bad.

"Just get it out, already," the younger Firebender finally spat out.

Iroh obeyed silently, beginning to try and pick the piece of rock out. But it was stubborn and the flesh was new and soft. Zuko was soon doubled over again, swearing into his clenched fists.

"Prince Zuko, hold on. It will be alright."

"Hurry up!"

"Prince Zuko, you need to sit up again, my nephew. You're blocking it. Sit up, Prince-"

"Why do you keep calling me that?" Frustration, pain and desperation made the cry escape him as wild eyes searched his for an answer. "I'm not a prince! _Why _do you call me that?"

Iroh wanted to tell his surrogate son so many things. Things that had taken him so long to learn and things he was sure not even he could put into words. But he knew Zuko would not listen; his heart was too torn to understand. And he was bleeding with hitched breathing on a dirty floor with enough bruises to make every movement a painful one.

And so, instead, he just said, "Because, my nephew, it is just skin."

Zuko's eyes dropped away and he sat up again with a wince, allowing his uncle to begin taking out the last bit of rock. Iroh hid the two tears that slipped down his face as he worked. It was clear his nephew did not believe his words; it was not _just skin _at all. And that hurt more than any physical wound in the world.

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><p><strong>AN 2: <strong>Short and very, very, very, very, very crappy. Maybe when I have more muse I'll come back and fix this up.


	4. Game

**AN: **I actually had a semi-plot for this one for a while so that's why it's written so fast. That and I only have one exam left. That's right – vacation on Friday! Unfortunately all the prompts I haven't gotten to by then will only come a bit later as I'm going away for three weeks so I won't have a computer or Internet. So you guys get a break from my drivel =P

A little bit of advertisement: I am the proud co-creator of a community here on FF that hordes a whole lot of Hurt!Zuko fics. So anybody looking for more, you can find the link on my profile. And _any _suggestions are so, so welcome. Thank you =]

**Disclaimer**: Still not mine. Artistic liberty taken with… well, basically _everything _in this one.

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><p><span>Game<span>

It was always fun and games until somebody got hurt.

That fundamental lesson – one he had learnt at an early age – had undergone a slight change in his eleventh year of living. And even though neither the change nor the actual lesson was very big or even hugely important in comparison to the rest of his life Zuko would remember it for the rest of his life.

It happened on a normal day in the heat of summer in the Fire Nation. He'd been sprawled across his bed with a book his uncle had given him in his hands. It was rather boring, in his opinion, but Uncle Iroh had insisted that the knowledge it held would make him a better ruler one day. And so Zuko read, forehead furrowed as he tried to soak up every word. His peace was shattered when a sword made from wood landed square across his head. Helping he shot upright at once and turned to glare at his door, rubbing the sore spot. Azula smirked at his discomfort and leaned against his doorpost in smug superiority.

"Come play." It was more a demand then a request.

He scowled, tossed the sword at her feet and lay down again. "No."

"Come on! Mai and Ty Lee aren't here and I'm bored."

"I'm not playing with you, Azula," Zuko growled back.

"Please?" She changed tactics at once, her voice turning as sweet as a ripe Moon Peace. "Come on, Zuzu."

"Don't call me that!"

She ignored him and his glares and advanced in skipping movements. "Come on. You know Mom would have wanted you to."

And there were the magic words. Zuko winced and turned his scowl to his bedspread. The youngest sibling waited patiently, knowing he would give in. Zuko would do anything to please their mother, even when she was dead. With a half-snarl half-sigh Zuko shut the book and got up. Azula smirked and handed him the sword, swinging a similar one over her own shoulder.

"What are we playing?" Zuko asked her sullenly as he followed her outside to the garden.

"Dragon hunting," she replied with enthusiasm.

"We need three people to play that," Zuko scoffed, beginning to regret his decision.

"I know, dummy! I told him he had to play with us."

She jerked her thumb to a rather nervous-looking servant who was waiting for them outside in the sunlight. Azula smiled at the man – an action that wasn't very reassuring – and then began swinging her sword in an almost hungry expectancy. Zuko noticed that light glittered off the toy weapon, as though she'd stuck things on it to make it shiny. He rolled his eyes. _Girls_.

"Now this game is simple," his sister told the servant sweetly. "We get to be two great Firebenders out to gain our rightful glory. And you," she smirked. "You get to be the dragon."

"P…Princess I don't think I underst-"

Azula grinned wider and leant forward. "Start running," she whispered.

The servant, wisely, did as he was told. The young princess let out a trilling little laugh as the servant sped away into the garden. Then she turned her bright eyes over to her brother.

"He's going to try and hide in the orchard," she said with a small smirk. "You go the west side and make a lot of noise so he gets spooked out. Then I'll take care of him."

Zuko frowned. "Why do _you _get to be in charge and the one to slay the dragon?"

"Because, Zuzu, I started the game. And because I'm better than you."

Before he could deny this she was already off, her toy sword clutched ready in her hands.

"This is why I hate playing with you!" he yelled at her retreating back. "Stupid girls," he mumbled to himself as he stomped towards the orchard.

As he got closer to the small group of trees he automatically slowed down and began to tread lighter. His uncle had been training him a lot since his mother left and he was getting very good at being silent. Slowly he sifted through the trees, ears straining for any noise. For a long while there was nothing but the sound of rustling leaves soon wafted down to him. Instantly he darted towards the tree the sound had come from, banging his sword against the trunks of each tree he passed to make as much noise as possible. As Azula had predicted the servant sprang from his hiding place and ran, trying to make a break for it. Zuko was hot on his heels, his sword at the ready. And for the first time the young prince felt the thrill of the hunt set into his bones. This was actually fun.

Just as the servant made it out of the trees and onto flat ground where he could use his longer legs to escape the perusing prince Azula appeared seemingly out of nowhere. With a small cry she swung her sword heavily at the man's head. It was a mixture of reflex and luck that the poor man managed to avoid her blow. He skidded to a stop and began to retreat to the side, Azula swinging at him from in front and Zuko rushing in from behind.

"Tackle him!" Azula ordered, and for once Zuko obeyed without question.

The servant was caught off guard and so he went down easily under the prince's leap. Zuko dug his knee into the man's back as he pinned his shoulders down with one arm and pointed the wooden sword at the back of the man's neck. The servant was panting and looking wide-eyed and scared.

"Please, sire…" he whispered to Zuko, looking panicked and unsure of what was actually happening.

Zuko's gut twisted with his conscience but the adrenalin thrilling through him canceled it out and he just pressed down harder. Azula sauntered up, every inch of her glowing triumph and smug victory.

"Well. Looks like we caught ourselves a dragon." Then she frowned, glaring at the pinned man in disgust. "That was pathetically easy. And here I thought you'd be a better dragon than Ty Lee or Mai." She sighed long-sufferingly. "I guess I just overestimated you."

The man beneath Zuko let out a small whimper and Zuko couldn't help but think that the man was pathetically weak. Sure they were both royalty but they were still just children. And yet here he was, a grown man, acting as though his little sister was the scariest thing he'd ever encountered.

"Now," Azula purred. "How are we going to slay you, dragon?"

Zuko was about to complain that he was bored – the chase was over and the actual 'slaying' was too theatrical for his liking – when he noticed Azula's sword glinting again as she twirled it while contemplating. And now that he was closer he could see that she hadn't stuck things on the wood to make it shiny. She had embedded real, razor sharp bits of glass into its pretend blade. Suddenly the servant's reaction didn't seem so pathetic any more.

"Okay," he said quickly, loosening his grip on the man under him. "We caught him. Round over. Now he knows what to do. So this time-"

"We haven't slain him yet," Azula interrupted with an ugly look sent in his direction. "What's the point of going dragon hunting if you can't hunt the dragon properly?"

"But this is where the game usually ends when we play with Mai and Ty Lee." He was starting to get a feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach.

"Well, Zuko, if you were less dense you would see that this isn't Mai or Ty Lee. This is just a worthless little servant who needs to obey us and wouldn't _dream _of telling on us."

His little sister smiled down at the cowering man in a way that made her eyes narrow and the hairs on Zuko's neck begin to rise. _Azula always lies_, he reminded himself as the girl advanced. _She's bluffing. She just wants to scare him. She's not really going to do anything_.

"Move back," she snapped at her brother.

When Zuko didn't move she growled and shoved him, hard, on the shoulder. Unprepared he rocked backwards and fell off of the servant. The man began to rise but Azula's foot stopped his ascent.

"Please, Princess! Please I-"

"Silence! Dragons don't speak."

_Azula always lies. She's just playing with him. It's just a game. She wouldn't really…_

The young princess raised her glass-studded sword and swiped it towards the servant at her feet. The man let out a howl as the wood and glass met their mark on his shoulder. Azula grinned wider and prepared to strike the begging man again.

"Azula!" Zuko darted up and grabbed her arm, stopping her action. "Stop it!"

"He's just a servant." She looked at him as though he was insane.

"That doesn't mean we get to hurt him for _no reason_!" The older Firebender pushed her back so that the servant was no longer trapped under her foot.

The look Azula gave him greatly resembled the look his father gave him each time he proved, once again, how much weaker he was than his sister. "You've been hanging around Uncle too much. You've grown even _weaker_."

The servant took the opportunity to scramble to his feet and run off, clutching his shoulder and seemingly praying. Azula snatched her arm free and glared at her brother with venom.

"Now look. You made us lose our dragon. Now the game is ruined." A spark of excitement returned to her eyes. "Unless… Yes." She smiled that smile of hers that made him feel more afraid than anything else. "Because you caused us to lose our dragon, you will take his place."

"No." Zuko tried to ignore the feeling of dread that was now building in his gut. "I'm not playing any more, Azula."

"Who said you had a choice?"

"Azula! I'm not going to play any more!"

"I'm going to slay the last dragon." She didn't seem to be listening at all. "It's going to be _me_, Firelord Azula."

"I'm not-"

Before he could do more than flinch the wooden sword had swept across his shoulder. The class cut into his skin making him yelp in surprise and pain. Almost automatically he raised his hand to the wound. His fingers came back sticky with red blood. He looked to his sister, half expecting to see some guilt or repentance on her face. All he got was her smile.

"I'd start running if I were you."

She took another swing at him, eyes alight with excitement. Zuko stumbled back, turned, and started towards the palace. He had run only a few steps when his pride made him stop. He was not going to run like a scared little girl from his own sister. Wheeling back he ducked to avoid her blow and then flung himself on the ground so he could pick up his own fallen sword. He blocked her next blow and managed to push her away so he could get up. He was suddenly angry; enraged by her attack and her attitude. But as he went onto the offensive pain suddenly flared though his fingers. With a gasp he dropped his burning wooden sword.

"Dragons don't have swords," Azula told him, her face dark and angry. "All they have is fire."

And suddenly Zuko was scared. He would have been able to win against her if they had fought with swords. He was good with swordplay while Azula barely knew a thing and his bigger size would have been to his advantage as well. But in a Firebending battle he was as good as dead; there was no way he was ready to face his prodigy of a sister. And both of them knew it.

Instinct took over and Zuko once again launched his body towards the palace. His pathway was almost instantly blocked by roaring flames. Using words his mother would not have approved of he changed course and dove back into the trees. He could hear Azula whooping behind him.

"Come on, Zuzu. Haven't you learned from my old quarry's mistakes? The trees won't save you."

Zuko ignored her and focused on creeping silently between the trunks. He knew climbing the tree would not help at all and so he focused on using them as camouflage until he could make a clean break for safety. His shoulder stung uncomfortably as he moved and he vowed – silently – to get his sister back for it later when she was just Azula again.

"I can smell your fear, Zuko. I know where you are."

Zuko flinched – her voice had been much to close for comfort. Gritting his teeth he headed to the east opening of the little orchard as silently as he possibly could. But he was so busy listening out for his sister that he did not see the branch until it cracked under his foot.

"I can hear you, Zuko! I'm coming for you!"

Zuko changed his direction slightly, leaving the trodden path that many journeys through the trees had created. He wove between tree branches as quickly and quietly as he could, praying his sister would not somehow sense his new direction. He saw the end of the trees and picked up his pace, knowing that out in the open he was a sitting duck. If he was fast enough, however, he could reach the bushes on the other side before Azula even noticed –

His leg connected with the rock with a dull thud that was much too loud in his strained ears. Before he could comprehend what was happening he was falling, landing heavily in a wrong position. And then there was pain: shooting up from his leg in bursts that were quite astounding. He bit on his fist to stop himself from crying out and tried to bring his injured limb closer so he could support it. He wasn't able to move it far; one inch of movement left him feeling like his leg was being burned.

"I'm coming closer, dragon!"

His sister's voice brought him back to his current predicament. He was now sprawled right out in the open; a sitting duck for Azula's wrath. Trying to ignore the pain in his shoulder and the agony in his leg Zuko used both hands to push himself to his uninjured leg. He felt himself swaying, the world tilting sickeningly as pain washed over him in waves. Blinking rapidly until everything stood still again Zuko then looked desperately over to the bushes that would be his salvation. Cautiously but quickly he then attempted to put a little bit of weight on his injured leg.

Pain spasmed up the offended limb causing him to bite back a moan and clutch for anything to keep him upright. The only things his hands found were the row of tall potted plants that fringed the trees. They were runners attached to thin beams of wood so they could grow upwards. They were also completely covered in thorns. Hearing the sound of a girl's quiet laughter Zuko grit his teeth and reached for the next bit of bush. The thorns pierced into his palms but, compared to the pain in his leg, it was nothing. Leaning almost all his weight on the bending limbs of wood he managed to take a little step forward.

He knew it would never be enough to get him away on time. But he would not lie down and let her find him.

Slowly he began half dragging himself forward, biting his tongue until it bled too so he would not cry out. He reached the end of the row of thorny plants and clung on, feeling the thorns embed themselves in him. He counted the steps he needed to take to reach the cover of the bushes. Five. All he needed were five steps.

Steeling himself and gritting his teeth he let go of his support with one hand and tried to take a step out towards the bushes. He managed one very halting one, his injured leg screaming in agony at the brief burden of his weight that it had had to bear. Trying hard not to cry Zuko let go with his other hand and clenched it into a fist. The sensation of warm liquid ran over his battered fingers as he inched his injured leg forward, ready to take another minuscule step towards his sanctuary.

Azula's laughter right behind him vanquished all his hope. She had seen him, watched his pathetic attempts and was now highly amused by them. He was doomed and yet still he tried to struggle on. A hand grabbed his shoulder and forced his body weight onto his injured leg. The limb gave out at once, sending him to the ground where he curled up and moaned in agony. His moan turned into a choked scream when his sister stepped down on his injured leg. Zuko tried to glare up at her but the pain screaming from his leg must have showed on his face because Azula just smirked.

"I will be the one to slay the last dragon," she said sweetly, raising her sword.

"What on earth is happening out here?"

If Zuko had been able to move he would have crawled over and kissed his uncle's feet. Azula's weight instantly disappeared from his leg and some of the stars glittering before his eyes vanished. He raised his head as far as it would go to find Iroh a few meters away, face shocked and eyes roaming over his pale, bloody nephew on the ground.

"We were playing a game, Uncle," Azula promptly said, her face sweet and innocent. "Right, Zuko?"

Without his consent his mouth automatically formed the words. "Right. We were… playing a game."

"I'm bored now anyway," Azula sighed, shouldering her sword so that the glass made a tinkling sound against her metal shoulder pads. "I'm going to find something else to do."

Without a backwards glance she skipped off, leaving Zuko able to relax and succumb to the pain and fear that then seemed so irrational and stupid. Iroh's hands were abruptly on him, wiping away the blood from his shoulder and helping him to sit up. Zuko mumbled some excuse about his leg that made Iroh sigh, try and lighten the mood with a bad joke and then help his nephew to his feet. Seeing Zuko pale even more the retired general then half carried the boy back to the palace, a sense of dread about his niece awakening in his gut.

Zuko, too, was having a revelation. As his uncle helped him inside and as he grit his teeth until his jaw hurt so he wouldn't cry out in pain the old lesson he had been taught underwent a permanent change in his brain.

It was always fun and games until somebody got hurt. In Azula's eyes, that was when the pure pleasure began.


	5. Swimming

**AN: **I was on vacation with no computer, remember? So that's why this took so long. That and the fact that I spent all the time I could have been coming up with ideas for this fic searching desperately and frantically for Tai whump fanfictions. Karma, the sly dog, rewarded me by giving me only two or three good ones. Pah.

Anyway. Here's the next one. I tried to limit myself to 1000 words but it didn't work out. Lol. Excuse the mistakes- I will edit this ASAP. I've just written it and I had a ten-hour car drive home today so I'm completely knackered. Hope it isn't too crappy.

For those fans not as rabid as me this happens just before Book Two. In _The Avatar State _Iroh mentions being stuck on a raft drifting at sea. My Irko side took over from there. Unfortunately not even the awesomeness of Uncle Iroh could save this from being a catastrophe. My apologies. I actually feel ashamed.

**Disclaimer: **Avatar and Iroh's raft do not belong to me.

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><p><strong>Swimming <strong>

The sun had never seemed that hot and savage before, not even in the many Fire Nation summers he'd lived through. Its heat beat down on him mercilessly, a thousand punishments for crimes he could not name in his state. Each pulse of warm sunlight sucked more moisture from his already dry body. It was torture to swallow; his throat was as rough as old parchment. He'd stopped being hungry three days ago; he had no energy to feel anymore.

With a laughable amount of effort he managed to turn his head to look at his uncle. Iroh looked even worse than he felt: pale, pained and floppy. Both of them were stretched out fully on their backs on their little raft as it drifted aimlessly through the sea. In the beginning they'd tried to steer their craft to shore and catch fish and pray for rain so they could have clean water to drink. They didn't try any more. Even the great positive force of Uncle Iroh had withered under the strain of no food or water and unyielding heat.

Unable to keep seeing his uncle like that Zuko turned his head the other way and allowed his thoughts to be overrun with blame once again. If only he hadn't. That one sentence, adorned with his different actions, had run through his thoughts for the past few days. Even in his weak, befuddled state he knew that their situation was his fault. But then, what was new? It was always him. Him and the bad luck the spirits kept flinging at him at every turn. He wanted to clench his fists and scream and volley fire into the endless water surrounding them to vent out his frustration. All he could manage was to clench his fists.

"Don't do this to him," he croaked through chapped lips to the heavens. "It's me you want. Don't do this to him."

As if the spirits had heard his plea there was suddenly a splash just off the raft. Zuko's eyes were in time to catch the tail of the pigfish as it slipped back under the water. The ex-prince nearly cried in relief: there was food nearby. When the fish surfaced another time, seemingly taunting him, Zuko made up his mind. Using every bit of strength he possessed he rolled himself off the raft. The salt in the water stung his healing wounds but he paid them no heed at all. Instead, he took a deep breath and dove after his quarry.

It took only a minute for him to realize his grave error. The fish was born to swim and it was healthy and fast. He was near starving and dehydrated and thus at the mercy of the sea. His arms ached before he'd even swum half a foot. By the time he realized his chase was futile and he had to get back to the raft his entire body was screaming. And, true to his usual luck, he'd suddenly been caught up in a current.

He managed to drag his head above the water but it was a struggle to keep afloat. His legs were tiring fast and his arms were basically useless. And the raft had drifted a good distance away. Zuko stared as his uncle and his salvation drifted away from him, his entire body caught up in a turmoil of increasing agony. Suddenly he couldn't get his legs to kick hard enough and he was dragged back under the sea, this time with no lungful of air.

He thrashed around a bit but quickly lost his bearing and knew that it was a futile attempt. Frustration coursed through him and with it came an emotion he had rarely felt before but which he now embraced fully. Defeat. His arms and legs stopped their agonising and pathetic attempts to keep him up and his body sank slowly as his lungs burned. He thought of his uncle, wondering if the old man would know what had happened when he woke up to find himself alone. His defeat was punctured a bit by his guilt: he knew his uncle would miss him.

Iroh's words from the North Pole played through his mind again. _Ever since my son died I've thought of you as a son_. The gold eyes of the drowning prince closed as his body began to panic at the lack of air. Unbidden, a vague thought flittered through his mind: _Uncle's first son died because of too much earth and a lack of fire. And now his second one is dying because of too much water and a lack of air. _

That thought was enough. He would not be the one to cause his uncle that much pain. He refused to give up his destiny to two elements that were not his own. The torture that ensued from his struggles to live nearly made him give up again. But he grit his teeth and fought the waves. Finally, _finally_, his nose and mouth broke through. He gasped in what must have been gallons and gallons of air, coughing and crying out his pain to the empty heavens. With stubborn resilience and pure desperation he managed to flip himself over to his back: floating was his best chance at surviving.

As he let the current gently drift him along he allowed his exhausted mind to take in every twinge his cramping, screaming muscles made. He was so intent on not crying out, passing out or sinking that his head hitting against a substance – none to gently – made him jump violently and inhale another round of water. As he flailed and floundered his brain finally gave him the solution; he had hit his raft. He shot out his hand and managed to grab hold of the side of his floating salvation. His other hand followed suit and he dragged his head above the water again.

The sight of his sleeping uncle made him even weaker with relief. But his celebration didn't last long. Every muscle in his body was screaming and causing him to shudder even more violently than just from cold. He had to scrabble to hold on, cutting his arms on the rough wood but not caring. There was no way he'd be able to haul himself up; he just didn't have the strength.

His bleeding, although mild, sapped even more energy from him and he felt himself slipping back towards the cold and merciless water. Finally Zuko could hold his silence for no longer and he cried out, feeling as though he was breaking in half. And then there were hands on his shoulders, pulling him up. The pull was weak but it was enough to drag his half-dead body back onto the raft. He felt like kissing the wood.

"Prince Zuko!" His uncle sounded as raspy as him but more alarmed and concerned. "Nephew! What happened?"

Refusing to move even a twitch to spare him any more agony from his muscles Zuko closed his eyes so he could sleep as he lay, contorted and sprawled. "I went swimming, Uncle."

There was no use worrying the old man, he decided as he drifted. No use at all.


	6. Exchange

**AN:** *slinks in in utter shame* It was Lita the Storyteller's birthday like… two weeks ago. But because of my vacationing and my bad luck in fanfic searching I only got to write this today. Lita, I am so, so, so sorry this is so late. And I'm even more sorry that it's so crappy. Again this was written now while I'm half asleep and unfed after a day of riding in the car. If I was ashamed about _Swimming _then this one… I want to die a thousand deaths. I promise, promise, promise I'll edit it ASAP and try and salvage some of it. And I'll make it up to you at Christmas time. (Big whoop, I know but at least it's something?)

And at Christmas you'll actually get to choose the theme of your gift fic. This one I'm thrusting on you again because it came to me and… Yeah. Sorry about that. I've always loved Disney but my love has been taken to completely new heights with the movie _Tangled_. I swear I've watched it at least ten times. On my life. And somehow I have the feeling that you mentioned somewhere that you liked the movie too. Or maybe I'm just going crazy. Anyway, you can probably guess what spawned the idea behind this one.

Once again I promise I'll fix ASAP. Happy Birthday, sorry I'm so late, please don't hate me and buy another donkey ;)

**Disclaimer: **Avatar is Bryke's, Tangled is Disney's, this piece of fail unfortunately is being shoved at Lita the Storyteller.

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><p><strong>Exchange <strong>

She'd been so stupid. The motherly urge in her had been so great it had overpowered her common sense and the warnings of her friends. She should never have gone alone with only one small pouch of water. She should have stayed with Aang and the others in the actual village instead of trying to be the heroine once again. The village was small and rural and the mixture of races within it and the tension their diversity caused was the reason the Avatar and the Firelord had journeyed to it. She had heard of the plight within the village as well as the struggling little tribe that lived in the caves nearby and she had insisted that she come along. She could heal them, she'd said. She wanted to help.

And that's why she'd set out towards the tribe that morning, despite Aang's words of caution. She didn't have the patience to wait for a few more days until Aang and Zuko were done with their negotiations so they could go with her. She wanted to heal the injured and sick in that little tribe _right away_. She hadn't expected the chief of the tribe to be so... so...

Evil. That was about the only way to describe him.

The big, hulking man had seemed like the strong and silent type when she'd first entered his village. He seemed to hold his twenty-man tribe in place with a calm respect. His interest in her healing abilities had seemed like innocent intrigue and she had even smiled in secret pride. And when he'd led her away from the first cave to a place she knew she would not get away from without his help again she hadn't even been the least bit suspicious. She had spent the day in the cave playing with the children without a care in the world. And then she had tried to leave. His order to capture her was followed so swiftly she barely had time to register what he was saying. And she realized that he was strong and menacing and that his people only seemed to respect him because they were scared out of their wits. Some of the mothers shot her apologetic looks over their shoulders as they fled as soon as the peaceful façade shattered.

She'd tried to fight back but her water had been used on healing his people and her physical strength was no match for his four strong guards. His smile had seemed more like a sneer; it reminded her almost at once of Zhou. And his courtesy only spanned far enough to give her some free reign of her arms and legs as she lay chained to the wall as well as an explanation to his actions. He was going to _use _her. He was going to send his men out so he could take over other little villages and build his empire. His plan was so obvious and clichéd she wanted to laugh. She didn't, though, because the metal of the chain was biting into her skin and she had to keep her captor happy until she could find a way to escape. She came in post-war. He would make her heal his wounded soldiers so they could enforce his rule and then move on to the next unsuspecting place.

The more she screamed at him that she would _not _the more determined he became that she _would_. And she had the sinking feeling that he was right; she would not be able to sit around with wounded people surrounding her and do nothing. She was a healer as well as a warrior. That need to help people was the reason she'd gotten into the mess in the first place, after all. But even as she realized her captor was right she refused to let him know it. She would fight him with every last breath in her body. She was Master Katara of the Southern Water Tribe, teacher and girlfriend of the Avatar. She would make him pay, one day, for what he'd done and what he planned to do.

But her fighting spirit didn't last long. Soon she was becoming pacified and even drowsy. When she began nodding off even in the uncomfortable chained position she found herself in she knew something was up. Gathering her wits about her she critically examined the situation. She was still in one of the front caves of the bunch, chained a mere foot or so from the mouth of the cave. The place was bare of everything except dry, crumbling rock and a single fire that the chief lounged behind. And then she spied some greenery, hanging in a basket near the opening of the cave. It was smoking and it didn't take her long to realize that it was the cause of her drowsiness. Cursing inwardly she twisted herself until she was less in its path and tried to control her breathing. She could not fall asleep.

After about an hour she felt herself succumbing to the fumes again. And as she began to drift off helplessly she heard a sound that made her hopeful and terrified all at once.

"Katara!"

Her name was called in a tone that was slightly exasperated an impatient. It came again, this time closer, and she could hear the accompanying footsteps heading towards her. Most of all, her name was called in the rough, deep voice of the Firelord. The hope she'd felt began to die as she again saw the smoking plant. Zuko would be caught unaware... She took a deep breath to call out a warning but rough hands covered her mouth. She struggled, shouldering and trying to bite, but her captor was firm.

"Where the heck are you?"

She'd known Zuko long enough to hear that the exasperation was more teasing than anything else. By her rough guess it would be close to sunset already and she'd promised to return by noon. Aang and Zuko had probably decided she'd gotten too engrossed again and Zuko had been chosen to go and drag her back to them before she became 'overcaring', as Sokka had dubbed it. He wouldn't be expecting an attack at all and with the sweet scent of the unknown plant...

In desperation she called out a warning to him, her cries well muffled by the big hands surrounding her mouth. As she tried to scream her warning again the other guards crept towards the entrance. Katara, the Master Waterbender, was suddenly very, very afraid. Zuko's shadow loomed before the opening and a moment later his body appeared, his face impassive as he peered inside. He froze as soon as he saw Katara, chained and in the arms of a large man, her eyes wide with terror. He had a second to register what he was seeing before he was attacked.

Firelord Zuko was no armature at fighting. His less-than-sheltered teenage years had made his skills great and his reflexes sharp. And it was thus that he gave his attackers a run for their money. But the chief was no fool. As soon as he realized Zuko could bend fire he doused the small one in front of him, eliminating one advantage. Zuko still held his own, cutting down the number of his assailants to two without slowing or showing any weakness. Eyes blazing and body working in every way imaginable, Katara began to believe he would rescue her. Then he stumbled, and she remembered the deceivingly sweet smell of the plant. Not even Zuko could fight off its power.

And then, suddenly, someone was yanking hard at her hair. The assault was so abrupt and so brutal that she screamed, the sound echoing across the cave as her mouth was uncovered. The Firebender heard it and whipped towards her at once, body alert and ready to help. The attacker closest to him lunged at once. Katara's eyes were automatically drawn to the man's assault: she watched his body ground itself and his arm launch forward. And she watched as his silver knife flashed through the air and then seemed to disappear. For a moment Katara couldn't understand where the weapon had gone. And then Zuko was crumpling and the knife had reappeared, this time coated with red.

Zuko had been stabbed.

Horrified, Katara watched the strong, proud Firelord almost writhe on the ground at the feet of the filthy, worthless savages. She saw Zuko attempt to carry on fighting but the man who had stabbed him quickly beat him to the ground again. When Zuko scarcely made a move to get up again Katara knew he'd been badly hurt. She barely heard the chief bark out orders to move her in case more people came looking. She kept straining against her bonds, ignoring the chafing, trying to reach her fallen friend. She woke up from her horrified stupor when her chains were unbolted from the wall and the men began to drag her to the back of the cave. Despite her weariness and the effects of the plant she put up the best fight she could, raging and yelling fit for at least three women. At first the chief took it in his stride but when she didn't tire and her yelling turned to swearing and the fire behind her blue eyes didn't extinguish at all he began to realize she would not let him take her.

"Stop fighting me, girl!" he snarled, taking over from his men and attempting to haul her out of the cave. Katara's reply was a few choice words that would have made Toph beam with pride. The chief refused to yield and just tugged harder, making Katara thrash wilder. "Stubborn girl! Stop it!"

"No!" she snarled back, her face alight with something akin to hatred. "I will _never _let you win. I'll keep fighting you until the day I die."

The chief snarled and tugged her harder, his expression causing his remaining three guards to drag their comrades out hastily to escape his wrath. One returned, skittering nervously on the sidelines, obviously understanding how his master got when he was mad. How Katara heard Zuko's moan over the guard's nervous stamping, the chief's swearing and the sounds of the struggle she would never know. But somehow she did and the sound sent ice into her veins. In that split second she thought up a plan. It was tricky and it was nowhere near perfect, but it would save him and right then that was all that mattered.

"Wait! Wait!" The chief didn't stop his relentless tugging and she snarled. "I'll make a deal!" The man finally stopped and she allowed herself to sink to her knees, hurting and out of breath. But her eyes did not waver from her captor's for a second. "I'll go with you," she told him in a low, even voice. "And I'll heal who you tell me to heal when you tell me to heal them. No fighting and no arguing. _If _you let me heal him." The chief's eyes narrowed and she hurried on. "Let me heal him, and I'll go with you willingly."

"No! Katara don't..."

Zuko's pained snarl came from behind her and she whipped her head around to find him attempting to raise himself up with no success and a lot of laboured breathing. The sight twisted her heart and hardened her resolve even more.

"I will," she told the chief, trying to keep the loathing she felt for him out of her voice. "I swear it to you."

The chief seemed to consider her words for a moment, his scowl still in place. Katara could almost see his mind mulling it all over and she wanted to scream as the seconds ticked by and he didn't move. Didn't he understand how much Zuko was hurting? Didn't he understand that when Firelord Zuko moaned like that it was very, very serious? Eventually, when she was sure she would snap in two at any minute, the chief made up his mind.

"Unchain her hands," the chief snapped at the remaining guard.

The guard scurried forward at once with the key and unhooked Katara's hands, being very careful to keep her feet bound. The chief grabbed her hands in a tight grip that was painful as her wrists had rubbed raw on the chains. She ignored the man and instead twisted around to watch the guard with Zuko. As she feared the other man was not gentle with the fallen Firelord and her insides clenched painfully every time she heard him hiss in pain.

Eventually, however, Zuko was chained to the same spot on the wall she had been tied to. What worried her the most was the way he slumped and barely fought as he was moved and tied up. Then the chief let her hands go and she scrambled to Zuko's side as fast as she could with her ankles still bound.

"Zuko. Zuko."

Frantically she ran her fingers over his hair as if to convince herself he was still there and still responsive. At her touch he looked up and tried to school his expression into a neutral one. His attempts were futile, though: she could still see the pain in his eyes and the very unnatural pale hue his skin had turned. Snatching the water the guard handed to her with a deathly glare she attempted to unscrew the cork of the skin with shaking fingers. The guard stepped closer, whether to help or to make sure she wasn't trying anything she wasn't sure. At his advance Zuko stiffened and reflexively tried to sit up. But his accent lasted only for a few seconds before he crumpled in on himself again, hissing and swearing out his pain.

Immediately forgetting the chief and his lackey Katara shuffled right up to him, her hands instantly reaching for him. She was going to turn him over – she knew he'd been stabbed from behind – but the sight of red stopped her in her tracks. With growing horror she parted his tunic to find that he was bleeding out the front as well: the knife had gone right through. Even her gentle actions made him his and wince, his bound hands curling into fists as close to the wound as they could get. Her hands snapped back and then tore the cork away from the skin.

"Shh." She was babbling and she knew it but her heart was aching and beating much too fast and she had to have a way to assure herself as well as him. "Shh it's okay. Zuko it's all going to be okay. I'm so sorry. Just hold on."

She drew out the water and coated her hands, slightly relieved when her hands started to glow at once despite their shaking. Trying to smile reassuringly she moved her hands towards the stain of blood that was growing by the minute. But as she got close Zuko twisted his body away with as much strength as he could.

"No. Katara, no." His voice was pained but as stubborn as ever.

"What are you doing?" He somehow never failed to make her utterly exasperated. "I need to heal you!"

"I'm not going to let you," he snarled back, trying hard to sound forceful but failing rather miserably.

"You'll die, you idiot!"

"And if you heal me? What then?" He winced again but barrelled on after taking a deep breath. "Aang's good but he'll take time to find you. And he might not make it in time."

Zuko's gold eyes bored into hers, stubborn and serious even as they became more glazed over in pain. Katara began to shake her head.

"No. I'm not going to let you do this. You were never a good martyr and I'm not going to let you have any practise." He started to protest but she glared at him, her eyes icy. "You're tied up. I'm going to do this." He stared back at her, chest beginning to heave with the effort of breathing. He was fading pretty fast, in more agony than he was letting on. Her panic increased and with it her resolve. "Listen..." Suddenly she was aware of how close she was to him. She swallowed hard. "Don't let Aang know exactly what happened. Don't... Don't let him know that I sold myself because..."

She broke off but both of them knew what the rest of her sentence would have been. _Because I love you in a way that I can never love him._ Her eyes began to well up with tears and she sniffed, trying to force them back. Zuko was still looking at her, slightly spaced out as his strength continued to wane. But his resolve stayed true and as she bent in to heal him again he managed to strain towards her to whisper in her ear.

"Katara. See if-" Zuko broke off to cough suddenly, his body spasming and his face twisting into a grimace that made Katara's tears spill over. Through gritted teeth he hissed at her, "Boot. Discreetly."

Making sure she kept her eyes on him she slid her one hand down to his boot and slowly looked inside. Her fingers touched something cold and smooth and she began to gently pull whatever it was towards her. Zuko played distraction by faking another cough. At least, Katara hoped he was faking. Before she could look down and see what had been in Zuko's boot his shackled left hand grabbed it from her, the clink of the chain hidden by Zuko's hacking. He looked at her again and she realized that what he was about to do was beyond desperate. Then something in his eyes changed and she felt her heart beat faster for a different reason entirely. She was not experienced in the ways of love but she understood that look and the feelings behind it. And she had enough self-respect not to assume the look and feelings were only because he was busy dying before her.

Zuko began to lean towards her and she hastily did the same, trying to put less strain on him and his injury. The chief growled out his impatience but both teens ignored him. And then, suddenly, Zuko was a mere half an inch from her. She breathed in his scent and couldn't conjure up any guilt, only memories and past feelings that had built to that moment. He moved his head to the side and she found her eyes closing reflexively.

"Fight," Zuko's voice whispered in her ear.

As the shock and surprise of his words made her eyes shoot open at once. It was only because of that that she saw the dagger shoot from Zuko's still-chained hand. The dagger's throw was wide but it still miraculously hit a mark, namely the guard's shoulder. The man howled in pain, drawing the chief's attention. The chief roared, angry and yelling for his other lackeys as Zuko slumped back with a sort of finality that made Katara's fear mount even more. And then, as the bleeding guard and the chief started towards them her instinct took over.

The water coating her hands became a weapon in less time than her attackers had to take a single step. And without knowing exactly how she was fighting, her survival instincts driving on her desperate attacks even as the amount of water in her control diminished by the second. She barely registered when another three men entered through the back of the cave; they were just more targets to hit. As she whipped and froze and speared she also prayed, begging any spirit who would listen that she would win. She didn't even have a twinge of guilt when she smashed the chief to the ground so hard she could hear the impact his body made as it the rock.

And then, miraculously, the battle was over. Only two remained conscious and they were anything but unscathed. Katara used the last of her water to freeze them to the floor, eyes spitting even as her body shook from sheer exhaustion.

"Give me the key to the chains," she spat.

The one frozen nearest to the chief obediently scrabbled around, finally managing to extract the desired object and throwing it at her feet. Katara's expression held no trace of thanks.

"Take your pathetic friends and your… _thing_"- she only just refrained from spitting at the chief- "and get out. If you come back, I will kill you."

The threat was, of course, empty. She had little strength left and no water. She was more helpless before them now than ever before. But the guards were naïve and frightened by her anger and her displayed skill. And so, whimpering their promises not to even think of returning, they dragged their own out through the back as quickly as they could. Katara waited until they were fully gone before she unlocked her ankles and Zuko's wrists. She threw the key aside in disgust and wobbled to her feet, moaning as pain shot through her legs.

Then she turned to Zuko himself and her heart returned to her throat. He was out cold, pale and getting weaker by the second. His blood pooled over his chest and under his back in a puddle of sick maroon. She tried to wake him but nothing came from her efforts. With shaking fingers she tore strips from her tunic to use as a makeshift bandage to ebb the flow. She began to sob as Zuko's blood seeped over her fingers and hands and her blurred vision made her task harder. Then she leapt to her aching feet and began searching desperately for any sort of water that she could use to heal him.

There was no water anywhere near her. There was no vegetation she could pull water from. And the air was dry thanks to the smouldering plant that was still making her drowsy. Frustrated she tore the basket down and snuffed out the foul plant, getting a faceful of it as she did. The world started spinning and she slipped to the floor, desperately trying to cling to consciousness. She couldn't leave Zuko; he desperately needed her. Finally she was able to drag herself up again and she headed back towards her fallen friend in misery. Shoulders heaving with the weight of the situation she began bending her sweat and tears, trying to get something – anything – to help Zuko. Her measly water substitute barely cleaned the wound. As though the entire world wanted to symbolise her despair the sun began to set as she realized the pittance she held in her hands would not help at all.

Katara had never felt so helpless. She was lost out in a cave in a strange, hostile land with a dying Zuko in the swiftly approaching darkness. She was tired and sore and would not be able to find her way back to Aang in time to be of any help to Zuko. And Aang would not come looking for her yet: he would assume her and Zuko had decided to stay instead of walking back in the dark. The Waterbender found herself stroking Zuko's forehead as misery washed over her in waves she wished were physical. He stirred at her touch, very faintly, twisting towards her and moaning at the slight movement.

"Shh. It's alright. We're alright." She wondered if she'd ever told a lie quite that big.

Her words, as deceitful as they were, calmed Zuko down and he continued to sleep fitfully, breathing laboured and body trembling. In the days when he had been the enemy Katara had envisioned him beaten once or twice. At that moment she would do anything to take those moments back, just in case they were the reason Zuko was dying before her right then. Finally she could take the sight of him no longer and she lurched towards the mouth of the cave.

Outside was growing steadily blacker as the last of the sun slipped towards the horizon and every direction seemed exactly the same to her eyes. She screamed for help at the top of her lungs even though every bit of her knew it was futile. In the midst of the situation and the darkness she felt like a little girl again and longed for Gran-Gran and her stories that could make anything better. She focused on watching the decent of the sun so she could keep her mind off of Zuko and the harsh sounds of his breathing. It was probably because of her situation and her tired state that the thought crossed her mind: _It looks like the sky is bleeding too. _

And with that thought came the whispering of a almost-forgotten tale that had first been spun many years ago to make her and Sokka fall asleep. Almost reflexively she said the words out loud as they played across her memory in Gran-Gran's solemn yet musical voice.

"When there's blood in the water and blood in the sky the Moon shall graciously answer your cry." Her eyes immediately began to search the rest of the sky, the remainder of the legend forgotten. She nearly sobbed in relief as she caught sight of the moon. It was barely there; a mere sliver in the sky. But she could still feel its powers. "Yue." She was sobbing again. "Yue, please. Please help me. Don't let him die. _Please_. I promise…." Katara took a shuddering breath, shuddering as she cried. "I promise if you heal him I will love him in the right way. Only platonically. Just please, please heal him."

Her shoulders heaved and the tears continued to fall but nothing else happened. Despondent, hopeless, aching and exhausted she stumbled back into the cave and lay down beside Zuko, burying her head in his shoulder. Sobbing apologies and pleas for him to stay with her she dropped into a fitful sleep. Her dreams were wild tangles of fantasy that quickly morphed into a horror. Gran-Gran's prized comb turned into a monster that chased her straight into Zuko's arms. He protected her for a while but then chains joined the comb and she had to flee to a cave. Zuko followed her and suddenly they were below Ba Sing Se again, green tinting everything around her. Zuko's scar was beneath her fingertips the texture surprising and somehow endearing and intoxicating. Then Azula was there again, wielding her lighting and her poisonous words. But this time it was Zuko who got shot, not Aang. And when she reached for her spirit water it was not there. Screaming she rushed towards him, pulling up water from the stream he was lying in. The water stayed still; it would not obey her. And Zuko would not move, no matter how she begged or pulled or cried.

Azula was suddenly next to her, grabbing her shoulders and spinning her around so she could see the blood red ceiling. Katara could feel Zuko's blood dripping onto her feet as she was held in place, horrified yet transfixed. And then Azula's taunting voice was in her ear. "When there's blood in the water and blood in the sky the useless Waterbender will watch Zuko die."

The Waterbender awoke with a start and a gasp, tears trickling down her face at the remains of the dream. She kept her eyes closed; she didn't want to see Zuko in that much pain. She refused to. Especially since she could still feel the splash of his blood against her bare feet. A second after she'd thought that she frowned and opened her eyes slowly. Zuko was beside her so the moisture she was feeling could not be his blood. Which meant that it had to be something else. Suddenly very alert she whipped upright and spun to the mouth of the cave. The sight that greeted her made her begin to sob all over again.

It was raining. Great big drops of water fell from the sky in torrents, splashing off the rocks and onto her. Gasping and crying she dove outside and began bending the rain frantically as though she was scared the falling water would suddenly vanish.

"Thank you, Yue. Thank you! Thank you!"

With as much water as she could possibly bend she returned to Zuko and began to heal him. She had adrenalin coursing through her veins and this staved off her exhaustion and allowed her to begin knitting the Firelord back together bit by bit. She could not repair all the damage but she could do enough to save him. And that was all that mattered.

Katara tossed the bloody water outside and sank forward until her head was cradled in Zuko's shoulder again. She doubted she had ever been more relieved or more thankful in her life. And her feelings grew when the man beside her stirred.

"'Tara? What…?"

"Shh, it's okay." She revelled in the knowledge that she was being truthful that time. "The tribe is gone. I healed you. Yue made it rain."

He took the information in slowly and silently, running tentative fingers over the wound he could still feel. He turned his eyes to hers and she nearly drowned in them.

"Thank you. For saving me."

Katara shut her eyes as his fingers gently stroked her cheek, tracing the tracks her tears had left. Her heart was thudding an uneven rhythm in her chest that had nothing to do with fear. Abruptly his fingers were gone again and she was in time to catch his grimace of pain. She bit her lip, her brows scrunching together in concern.

"I'm sorry I didn't get to do a better job. The wound was deep and old by the time I-"

"It's fine. I'm okay."

"Liar."

He gave her a weak smile that didn't add any colour back into his cheeks. "I will be okay."

"You have a lot of trust in my healing abilities." Spirits it felt good to joke around again, even if the jokes were very weak.

"I have a lot of trust in you." His eyes displayed his honesty.

To escape their power Katara carefully lay beside Zuko again, not missing his soft hiss of pain as he moved too suddenly. She rested her head against his shoulder and watched the rain. The silence stretched for so long she was sure he'd fallen asleep again.

"What did you promise them? The spirits. You must have given something in exchange for the rain." Katara's heart shattered into a million pieces and she squeezed her eyes shut against the sheer agony. She'd forgotten about her part in the bargain. "Katara?"

"I… I uhm… I promised them that nothing would change. I would make sure that… things… stayed the same as they are now."

She'd wanted to be as cryptic as possible to try and spare him but she felt the silence deepen and she knew he understood what she'd done. He said nothing more and the next she checked he'd fallen asleep, face troubled as his body pained. Silently Katara began to cry yet again. But her tears were different than before: this time they were the tears of someone who had truly lost the battle. She knew as she snuggled closer to him that it would be the first and last time he would ever remotely hold her.

The price she'd paid in exchange Zuko's life was a heavy one.


	7. Agony

**AN: ***hand pops through ground* I…. Am…. ALIVEEEEE!

In all seriousness, though: I'm sorry for taking so long to re-appear on the fanfiction scene. I've still been on this site almost every day but I've been _reading _instead of _writing_. Which was fun for me but probably a little off-putting for those wonderful people out there who actually WANT me to post some of my inane drivel. To those people I humbly apologise. I have a week off before I return to school and I intend to finish off these ten prompts.

Andmaybestartamultichapterfic butIdon'twanttomakeany promisesIcannotkeepsoyeah youdidn'thearanything.

Ahem. Originally – and I had this fic planned out way before the others because it's the one prompt Deffie decided to be nice with – I was going to do a prelude to a fic I've wanted to start for ages to gauge your reactions and ignite my muse. But after my long absence and my muse being sapped by the horrid torture of exams I hyped myself into ATLA mode by looking at all the pics I faved on dA. And most of the ones I looked at were surrounding the Agni Kai in the finale. Add that to the fact that Deffie has been as terrible as I have and STILL hasn't updated TCR and you'll understand why I chose the easy way out.

Deffie, this one is for yous. Because I want more TCR and I want my Agni Kai scene and you're the one who told me to write scenes in different perspectives when I was museless and had writer's block. I hope nobody minds the lack of creativity. Next chapter will be much the same but 9 and 10 will be marginally more original. In the sense that they are not based off of moments in the show, that is.

Reviews will be loved. Slight **warning**: Here be undertones of Zutara.

**Disclaimer**: Even after all this time, it's not mine.

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><p><strong><span>Agony<span>**

In retrospect, he probably should not have been so confident or so cocky. But, then again, he was never one to plan his assaults carefully. When he wanted something he did everything – _everything_ – in his power to get it. In his mind's eye there was only one possible path until it was totally and completely shattered before his eyes; destroyed until there was no way he could cling to it in hopes of it getting him to where he wanted to be. Only when the path he was stubbornly marching on was that badly decimated would he allow himself to look for a new path; a new possibility.

Usually the decimation was done by his enemies. He could not count the number of times his perfectly sculpted and well-lit pathway had been turned to a pile of crumpled, dark ashes because Aang managed to escape _again_, or Azula _again _proved to be more powerful, or Zhao _again _used his resources to undermine him and his quest. Sometimes, however, his path and his plans were blown to pieces by his wise, wise uncle. He never appreciated it when the retired general did it and he would put up as much of a fight as he could to blow off his frustration and the disappointed desperation that threatened to crush him. But, much later, he would lie awake in bed and contemplate. It was then that he realized how much his uncle saved him from himself.

Uncle Iroh had not been able to shake him and destroy his disillusioned path and plans in the catacombs of Ba Sing Se. Uncle Iroh was not there to stop his disillusioned path during the battle for the Fire Nation, either. That, he reflected days later, was why it had happened as it had.

If Iroh had been around Zuko would have thought twice about accepting his sister's challenge so easily. Iroh's presence would not have changed Zuko's mind about letting Katara fight with him – even the old man's wisdom would never have allowed the Firebender to put his new friend in such danger – but he probably would have been a lot more cautious and a lot more attentive to the 'something off' that hung about Azula like a stench. His uncle would probably have had the initiative to send Katara to the sidelines where it was truly safe. His uncle would probably have planned an escape for the Waterbender instead of just having a constant, niggling worry for her at the back of his mind as Zuko did.

If Iroh had been around Zuko would have thought twice about taunting his sister.

He just wanted Azula to throw her best at him so he could bat it away effortlessly and give her the same dropping feeling of helpless defeat that she had bestowed upon him time and time again. He wanted to win the fight mentally as well as physically. He wanted to better the best, and he thought he could do it because he had held against everything she had thrown his way as of yet and he had given back almost too much for her to bear.

And so, when his pride and stubbornness and the exhilarating adrenalin of the battle pulled the taunt from his lips – _No lightning today? Afraid I'll re-direct it?_ – he thought of nothing except Iroh's words on how to be rid of the powerful, utterly destructive cold fire without injuring himself. He placed his feet firmly on the ground, breathing in deep and tingling with anticipation, excitement and fear. In his mind he chanted the mantra he had created of his uncle's instructions, envisioning Azula's best weapon being tossed away or used against her.

_Fingers, arm, shoulder, down, stomach, arm, up and out. _ He bet she didn't even believe he'd really re-directed Ozai's lightning.

_Fingers, arm, shoulder, down, stomach, arm, up and out. _All those years of her beating him with her mind games and her natural talent would crumble on that day. It was _his _land and _his _destiny.

_Fingers, arm, shoulder, down, stomach, arm, up and out. _ She was creating lightning, now, seething and determined all at once. And his excitement grew, body and soul tensing as he waited for the inevitable.

_Fingers, arm, shoulder, down, stomach, arm, up and out. _ Even in her anger her usual utter and complete perfection was off. Her form was sloppy, her lightning sparking around her instead of forming perfect lines.

_Fingers, arm, shoulder, down, stomach, arm, up and out. _ And she was distracted: her eyes left his and instead turned to his right. He didn't even bother to see what had caught her attention: he had to focus on the cold doom she held in her hands.

_Fingers, arm, shoulder, down, stomach, arm, up and out. _ Finally, some of the old Azula was back: she was smirking the smirk he knew as well as he knew the scar on his face.

_Fingers- _Wait. She was turning? Why was she… No. No!

Katara. How could he have forgotten about Katara? How had he not even dreamed up the possibility that Azula would not remain noble and true to the rules of their duel? It was _Azula_ – Azula always lied. He had, once again, forgotten that fundamental fact and had fallen into her trap. As always, she'd allowed him to think he was on top before ruthlessly cutting him down. Only this time it would be so much more devastating than before.

Losing Katara… They'd just become friends. She was… He felt… No. No. She couldn't die.

His body, used to making split-second decisions without much consent from his logic, moved on its own. All thoughts of bettering Azula, of winning the battle, of being the best and of following his uncle's instructions were wiped from his mind in a split second. Right then his only purpose – his only desire and his only path – was saving the Waterbender beside him.

But he was too slow! He would never be able to reach a bending stance in front of her in time! _Too late, too late! _his mind screamed at him as he moved. And he imagined the light disappearing from the blue eyes he knew best in the world. He imagined her inner fire – because that was the most adept description he could come up with – being snuffed out by the cold, ruthless, unfeeling burn of the lightning. He imagined her lying limp and never getting up again to yell at him, attack him, threaten him, hug him…

The denial that ravaged through his mind at his imaginings tore from his lips. "No!"

And then Zuko, banished prince of the Fire Nation, did the only thing he could possibly do in the situation: he leapt to his right so he was directly in the path of the lightning. And, when the ice-blue destruction was close enough, he grabbed it and pulled it to his chest. Even as he felt gravity begin to yank him down he curled his torso around the lightning, absorbing it into him so that not one stray spark could ever hope to harm his friend.

As he hugged the lightning to himself he vaguely remembered his uncle telling him never to let the lightning into his chest or near his heart.

And then, his body exploded.

Zuko had writhed for days after his first Agni Kai, pain eating him up and making him long to scream for his mother. He'd often crawled into his bed on his ship so he could scream the ache of his latest training injury into the mattress where nobody could hear. He had slept for a full day after the pirates had blown up his ship, hissing at almost every movement and not even minding the concern in his uncle's eyes because it granted him some respite. His sickness in the Earth Kingdom had made his own body feel like blasting jelly and he had never ached and burned and froze all at once like that in his entire life.

But he would have taken all those things – every injury he had ever received – a thousand times over to escape the feeling of the lightning in his body. Later he was told that the force of Azula's attack had thrown him to the ground and that he'd managed to safely re-direct most of the lightning out of the arena. While the moments were happening, however, he knew none of that. Time, space and the world lost its hold on him and he was thrown, helpless, into an ocean of agony.

He had never known the meaning of that word until that moment. He had thought, as his injuries grew in size over the years, that he knew what 'agony' felt like. He had been very, very mistaken.

Zuko was being burnt from the inside, torn open by racing currents of electricity that caused his body to twitch and spasm uncontrollably like a puppet in the hands of an inexperienced child. The pain mounted and spread, fanning out across his chest in waves of torture that he could not put words to. He wanted to scream; wanted to put a noise to the death that was claiming him so swiftly as he lay incomprehensive and in nothingness. But he could not breathe; his chest was too busy tearing open and caving in on itself for it to remember how to pull air into his lungs. He was screaming in his head, though; screaming and pleading and praying like he had never prayed before. And all the while agony stabbed every millimeter of his body.

Some of the remaining lightning in his body ran its course through him and entered into the ground. He was allowed to breathe then; pulling in more oxygen in quick, shallow bursts. But while the air saved him from suffocating its relief was overshadowed by the negative affects it wrought on him. Inhaling caused his chest to move, aggravating the burnt, destroyed flesh so much he thought he would pass out from the pain. And the oxygen brought him into sharper consciousness – he could now feel his wound even better than before. Desperate to succumb to the blackness that promised relief Zuko inhaled slower, relaxing his aching body and pleading internally for respite.

A word stopped his progress just as unconsciousness began to claim him. "_Zuko_!"

In all the time since he'd met the Waterbender, he had never heard her sound that terrified. And her fearful and desperate cry snapped his brain back into action, allowing him to process more than the agony that was his body right then. Katara was still in the arena with a now triumphant, mad and very powerful Azula. And there was nobody left to keep the Firebender away from her. She was completely and utterly exposed.

It took every bit of strength he had to force his eyes open. The sky – emblazed red – swam sickeningly before his eyes and reminded him so forcefully of blood that he wanted to vomit. He didn't even remember how he got onto his back. Somewhere to his right, Azula's fire exploded on the ground. He begged Agni that Katara had gotten out of the way and was running as fast as she could. Suddenly Azula's cackling, unearthly laugh vibrated across the arena and Zuko sensed rather than felt his sister charging. The ground beneath him began to vibrate as the princess drew nearer but he had no time to try and will his head to turn and watch her charge before she was upon him. Her spit landed right on his head and her kick was forceful enough to turn him right over. He heard the pathetic noise of pure pain that escaped him as his front hit the cold tiles.

Azula laughed again and he envisioned her calling up her ruthless blue fire, ready to finish the job. At least then he would be free of the burning, tearing and suffocating. And then his sister was grunting in half surprise and half rage, and he felt her body hit the ground a few feet away. Water drops sprayed lightly over his back and even in his stupor of pain Zuko realized what had stopped Azula. Katara had not run.

Fear gave Zuko's body more strength and he pushed away the terrible ache and tried to gather his arms beneath him so he could lift his torso. The movement dragged him under the surface into pure, indescribable agony once more but he refused to stop trying to rise until his arms gave in beneath him. Once more the Firebender lost the ability to control his breathing and his body shuddered under the effort of his rapid, pained gasps. Spots were beginning to take over his vision and the spot of the tile he found himself staring at grew more and more blurred until it was just a mesh of colour with no meaning.

He felt more fire explode somewhere close and used the new spark of fear to force his eyes upwards. It took him mercifully little time to pinpoint his companion. However, when he did lay eyes on her he felt the little bit of his heart that was still working properly stop beating. Azula's fire missed Katara's heels by mere pinpricks and the Waterbender almost slipped as the hot flames licked at her. Desperately – unable to do anything else – he reached out a hand to her as Azula sent another attack, forcing her to leap out of the way. With every bit of his mental strength he willed his tortured body to rise so he could help her, not even noticing how he shook and twitched as he tried in vain to reach the Water Tribe girl.

The last of his fear-given strength failed and his face was once again met by cool stone. His efforts had completely exhausted him: he had nothing left. Almost gleefully the agony in his body took hold of him again, dragging him further and further into oblivion. He heard nothing, saw nothing and felt nothing other than his own suffocation and inner destruction. His heartbeat was slowing in his own ears and he didn't even have enough of his own mind left to be afraid.

In the last bit of him that still clung to awareness he screamed for his Waterbender friend. The whole point of the Agni Kai was so that she would not get hurt. He had promised Sokka, quietly behind the tents before they all parted ways. He had silently promised Aang, too, even though the Avatar had been absent. He had promised himself that he would never allow anything to happen to her while he was still breathing.

The irony of the situation hit him hard, and he didn't even have enough left in him to laugh.

The part of his mind that was still aware grew smaller and smaller as the moments ticked on. He didn't know how long he struggled against the pain and his failing heart before he began to yell at Katara in his mind. _Run, Katara! Run! You'll gain some time while she comes to finish me off or watch me die. Run and get to Sokka. He'll protect you. Run and don't stop until you're safe. I'm sorry. So sorry. I promised not to let you get hurt and I once again broke my word. I'm sorry for getting you into this. Run, Katara. Run like you have never run before_.

He wanted to scream his thoughts out to her but the most he could do then was moan pathetically as he tried to draw breath. Disorientated, his thoughts began to swim and change in his head until he wasn't sure what he was thinking any more. Faces, fragmented memories and pounding mantras of how much he hurt sounded in his head as he lay, moaned and breathed slower and slower as the minutes ticked on.

_Never give up without… "My nephew! Do come and see!"… Without a fight… Spirits it hurts… "Zuko! Why would you do that?"… Never… Mom, please! It hurts!… Give up… "Come on. You'll be - "… I can't breathe. I can't… "Ever since my son died - "… "There are reasons each of us are born."_ … _"You're pathetic!"… Please let me die… "Do not fear, my son. I have you."… Fight… _

One last time, Zuko forced his eyes open. He saw nothing but haze and the small effort caused him to groan in pain yet again. So suddenly it took the little bit of breath he possessed away he was being moved. For a second he thought it was the sensation of dying he felt; his spirit turning over so it could leave his body. The pain reached a new climax and he clenched his face tight against the feeling that was so surely dying. He felt his heart stutter, the sound of his blood reaching a roaring pitch in his ears. He forced himself to take another breath, shaking with the exertion it took – he would not die from lack of air when oxygen was plentiful around him. His pride would not allow it.

And then Zuko felt something he had been granted only a few times in his life: mercy.

The agony in his chest steadily stilled until it was reduced to a throbbing burn that was a bearable amount of pain. Oxygen rushed into his lungs glorious and sweet. The first thing that passed through his mind was a cry of thanks that it was over, and he allowed his body to sink down and his face to unclench.

Wait… Body? How could he still have a body if he had died?

Shock forced his eyes open. They were met by one of the most beautiful and most magnificent sights he had ever seen in his life. Despite the dirt clinging to her face and the tears pooling rapidly in her eyes– why was she crying, anyway? Girls were so emotional – Katara of the Water Tribe was smiling at him. And her smile was so wide and so shining and so full of wonderful emotions that his lips twitched upwards in a tired imitation.

In a rush he understood. She had taken the agony from him. She had saved his life. She had stopped it and turned it all bearable. "Thank you, Katara." He wanted to say more – oh so much more – but he had no strength and no voice to articulate his relief, his joy and his utter thanks.

"I think I'm the one who should be thanking you," she responded, the tears cascading down her face and her blue eyes full of thanks and warmth and triumph.

They were also full of life and that was something that Zuko was more grateful for than anything in the world.

Gently, Katara helped him to sit up and then clamber to his feet. He still hurt all over but the pain was nothing compared to what it had been. He could work with his body now – it was breathing and functioning and would stand and walk as he commanded for a while. But as he tipped to his feet ungracefully, wincing as he went, a new type of agony started in his heart.

Azula chained to the grate, roaring and flailing and finally sobbing in maddened defeat, was enough to make him want to collapse to his knees, hide his face and never look up again. He's wanted to defeat his sister but… Not like that. Never like _that_. Katara, seemingly understanding, placed a hand on his arm and looked away from the sobbing princess.

The once banished prince of the Fire Nation turned to the Waterbender at his side after a while and she met his gaze with harrowed eyes of her own.

"Aang." Zuko said simply.

She nodded, understanding, and gently wrapped her arm around him to steady him as he swayed. The Waterbender then looked around for the Sages or anybody else to take care of Azula while Zuko tried to catch up with the bits he had missed whilst in a stupor on the floor. His brain was too scrambled and too exhausted to piece events together and he soon gave up and willingly followed Katara's gentle command. As they staggered across the arena floor to some destination the Waterbender deemed the most important, Zuko was able to grasp one revelation.

Katara had saved him from agony. And her anxious glances his way as well as her firm hold on him told him that she would do so again in the future. It would never be the same type of agony – praise be to Agni – but whatever form it took the Waterbender would be there to help. He could tell she had vowed it to herself. Smiling a little, Zuko silently thanked the Spirits and Katara's mother for the Waterbender at his side.

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><p><strong>AN 2: <strong>Soppy ending. Sorry. I got really tired after writing all of it. And I couldn't find another way to end it. This is probably going to feature in the multi-chapter I'm not thinking of starting when I'm done with 'Fragments'. It's the basis of this non-existent fic and so anybody who reads the non-existent fic might see large chunks of it in there. So it would be appreciated if all mistakes or improvements are shot out of the water now so the non-existent fic can be as good as possible.

Not that I'm thinking of starting a fic *shifty eyes* Not at all. *Whispers to sister* Was that subtle enough? *Sister shakes head despairingly*


	8. Expect

**AN: **And, somehow, I got a second wind of muse. I guess now that I've started writing again I'm anxious to get finished. Not so much that it will all be over, per se, but more so that I have less chance of flaking out of this roll of muse.

This prompt was also decided upon pretty early on and it also is based off of actual events of the show. Because of that and because I wasn't sure how much I wanted to babble and drone on and on with this one I asked my dear younger sister to give me a random number. She chose 1360. And I fully intended for it to be only 1360 words. But it didn't work out that way. And I didn't want to cut down because my muse deserted me three sentences before the end of the fic. So.

Sorry about the quality for this one. Maybe the next and last two will be better? *hopeful*

**Disclaimer**: I own Avatar as much as I own a remedy that cures all ills. If it were true that I owned both of these I would be extremely happy. This, however, is not my happy face. Hence I own neither.

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><p><strong><span>Expect<span>**

The thing about sulking, Zuko learned as he grew older and wiser, was that it rendered one slightly oblivious to what was really happening in the outside world. The deeper and harder one sulked the more desensitized one was to the intent of one's surroundings. On that particular night he had been sulking very deeply indeed.

Zhao – the arrogant, frustrating fool! – had taken his entire crew from him. His _entire crew_! Not only did that knock Zuko's pride completely to the floor and spit on it whilst it was down but it also sent the Avatar that much further out of his grasp. Looking at matters right then the banished prince began to despair that he would never be able to return home. And his uncle! The stupid, stupid old man had been calm about it! He hadn't even tried to stop Zhao. He'd gone for a _walk_. Sometimes Zuko wondered if Iroh really wanted him to capture the Avatar at all. Seething with renewed anger, Zuko vowed to give the retired general an even bigger bit of his mind when he returned.

As though the Spirits were eager to present him with at least a small bit of opportunity on that night a noise suddenly rang through the quiet ship. Zuko's eyes popped with surprise and he sat up immediately, instinctively calling for the only man who ever truly returned to him. The Firebender padded to the door, wrenching it open and calling quietly into the deserted, cold metal hall.

"Uncle, is that you?"

No reply. No sound of heavy footsteps. No clinking of teacups. No singing. Silence and Iroh never went together unless something was very, very wrong. Instantly, Zuko's guard went up. Whirling quickly into the halls with his hands at the ready he stalked toward the navigation room, checking over his shoulder every few steps. The oval room was silent and empty of everything except furniture and equipment. And yet… Zuko frowned, furrowing his brow as he tried to shake the feeling of unease and of being watched. Snorting at his own paranoia he scratched the back of his head briefly to try and calm his nerves and turned to head toward the front of the room so he could look out onto the deck and try and spot his uncle.

He had taken all of four steps when he realized his mistake.

His sulking had made him aware of only his own emotions and bad luck. Because of that he had not paid proper attention to the happenings that went on around him. He let his guard down. And because of that simple fact he did not expect the attack.

He did not expect the attack, that is, until he saw the great green bird perched on the railing of his ship. Reeling to the side in surprised, he faced the creature and stared, slightly dumbfounded, as it seemed to smirk before spreading its great wings and taking off. That was when Zuko's mind caught up with him. He recognized the bird and saw its departure for what it was in one sickening moment. He had no time to react before the back of his ship exploded.

Letting out a surprised noise at the sound, he whirled in time to see a wall of flame heading his way. In the stunned moments when his body shut down in shock despite all his training he realized that in order to survive he had to teach himself to expect attack and strife at every turn.

Then the flames hit him and he was yelling as he was tossed through the window behind him. His very first instinct was one of pure survival born of many nightmares over the past years: as the flames reached him he immediately lifted his hands to cover his face. For this reason he had nothing to slow his decent as he was tossed thoughtlessly from the window of his ship. Glass from the shattered window flew everywhere, cutting his hands and arms and even his torso as he twisted uncontrollably in the air.

Then he was falling and his instinct changed, pulling his hands from his face so they could attempt to cushion his fall. Before he had chance to hit the deck another explosion went off, the force careening his body sharply to the left. He opened his mouth to cry out and got a mouthful of salty water as his body hit the ocean. Wildly he tried to struggle to the surface, gasping for air when he finally managed to make his aching arms work for him. But instead of clean oxygen he got a mouthful of smoke, sending him into a cascade of coughing that made him have to fight to stay afloat.

Gasping and hacking, barely above the water, the Firebender did not expect the ship to continue exploding. That was, however, exactly what it did. Glass arched into the air in a brilliant, shining arch, many small pieces slicing at his exposed face as he swallowed water in his surprise. And then his ship was falling on him, smashing into his chest and dragging him below the waves mercilessly. Chest burning from lack of air and from the bad bruising the falling wood had inflicted, Zuko writhed as he tried to claw his way free. Getting to the surface was so painful that he would have simply succumbed to the waves once more if there had not been a piece of wood for him to cling desperately to.

The Firebender used what little bending strength he had left to put out the fire on the wood as he simultaneously retched and gasped for breath. His body ached tremendously and he could feel the blood begin to trickle down his face. Weakly he cursed the Spirits as he tried – unsuccessfully – to pull himself onto his floating salvation.

And then – damn his fate and his luck – smaller bits of wood began to rain down on him, piteously battering the parts of his body that remained above the water. One large chunk caught him square on his unburned eye. His answering yell was equal parts pain and indignation at the unfairness of it all. Cursing, he held his newly injured eye, now unable to see anything but a bare minimum.

"Do you want to throw anything else at me?" he coughed weakly at the burning remains of his ship. "Go ahead!"

He really did not expect an answer, but still he got one: his response was a particularly large chunk that smacked him on the head.

The Firebender's head erupted with pain, and all sense of direction and understanding left him. He felt himself slip back into the water but could not tell if he'd fully let go of the plank. Head blazing, eyes unseeing, lungs not working, Zuko screamed his best hope to the heavens.

"Uncle!"

For his efforts he got another mouth of seawater. The rolling waves that had started because of the explosion sucked him under even as he clawed desperately to stay afloat. But which way, exactly, was up? He didn't know any more. He was aching all over and drowning…

Rough hands grasped his injured waist, sending shockwaves through him that caused him to cry out silently. Before he could lament the loss of his last air he felt his head break the surface. Wildly, completely confused, he struggled.

"Prince Zuko!" He'd never loved that voice more in his entire life. "I have you, my nephew. It's okay!"

He slipped slightly into unconsciousness, then, knowing nothing more until he felt the cold ground beneath him. Iroh's hands moved him and he hissed in pain as his body twinged. The man above him gasped but Zuko could not see enough out of the slit of his burned eye to decipher the emotion. Very abruptly, the Firebender's legendary anger sprang to the surface. Those filthy scum! How _dare _they attack his ship! Spitting out curses he rolled over sharply and roughly pushed himself to his feet. The could not have gotten far; he would find them and –

Pain stopped his train of thought and he almost keeled over, gasping, stumbling and mostly blind. An alarmed cry sounded behind him and Iroh's arms wrapped around his body, partially catching him and partially restraining him. The pounding of his sore head and the sickeningly acute pull of gravity rolled his stomach and he was finally able to vomit up the water he had swallowed. Iroh used this as an opportunity to pull him gently back to the ground, holding him tight so he could not go anywhere.

Zuko spat and heaved and swore, attempting to struggle out of his uncle's grip. His struggles stopped, however, when he felt wet splash onto his neck. His surprised turned to shock as the body holding him back shook with a sob. Uncle Iroh was crying.

No matter what situation or frame of mind or state of consciousness Zuko was in, he would never, ever expect his uncle to cry.

The retired general's breakdown sapped the anger and energy from Zuko's aching limbs. Exhausted, the prince allowed his tearful uncle to pull him onto his lap. He could still see nothing, and his head was throbbing in a way that made him vaguely sure he had a mild concussion.

"Sleep, nephew." It was more a desperate plea than an order.

Zuko obeyed for once, relaxing into warm yet wet arms and allowing his eyes to close. But then his confused mind prodded him with something and he struggled into awareness so that he could say it.

"We're going after them when I wake up," he slurred. "Surprise attack… They won't expect…"

Iroh gently began to rock him. If Zuko were any less befuddled he would have been insulted at the way he was being handled like a child. As it was he just allowed the motion to lull him completely into sleep. His last waking thought was that at least he could know what to expect when he woke: his uncle and his disgusting healing tea.


	9. Baby

**AN: **Eventually some originality returns to the work of WP. I said _some_ – don't get too excited. I think next to 'Fluffy' this prompt was the one that had me most stumped. If I was doing a series of Hurt!Katara fics, then this one would have been a breeze. But seeing as Zuko is most definitely a man I could not take the easy route out. Curse you, Deffie. Curse you.

After going through a few situations in my head – each more ridiculous than the last – I decided to settle on a very, very, very ambiguous take on the prompt. In other words: Zuko will be whumped but it will have nothing to do with 'baby'. At all. 'Baby' will only get featured. If anybody has a problem with my disregard for the rules of prompts, rally with Deffie and try and find me.

I wish you good luck =D *scuttles off to go and hide*

**Disclaimer**: Doesn't belong to meeee!

* * *

><p><strong>Baby <strong>

"I _hate _the Fire Nation! I hate it! I hate it! I-"

The wailing, echoing voice of his wife broke off as she puked again, retching into the basin and making him shudder and wince. Awkwardly he hovered in the doorway to the lavish bathroom they shared, eyeing her bent-over form wearily. He had never been good at the comfort thing, and that much had not changed in recent years. He usually left the soothing – both physical and verbal – to his wife. But as she was the one currently in need of said comfort as she heaved and cursed he was thrown completely out of his depth.

Slowly and wearily the woman before him raised her head and gave him a weak glare. Even disheveled and pale and smelling of vomit she was still very possibly the most beautiful woman in the world to him. He knew from past experience (her slap from yesterday still stung slightly) that he could not say such a thing. And so he kept silent, staring at her and waiting.

"Your nation," she told him thickly, "totally sucks. No other place would ever have a sickness this messed up!"

"You're just not used to the idea of it," Zuko said, unable to stop himself from rising to the defense of the Fire Nation.

His words earned him a dark glare. "I'm used to the thought! I'm just not used to it ravaging through my body! I'm so sick and tired of having my dinner revisit me!" Shuddering suddenly, she leaned over the basin again. This time, however, nothing came up. After dry heaving for a while she just slumped to the ground dejectedly. "I hate you for bringing me here," she said miserably.

The Firelord just sighed long-sufferingly, having heard those words in varying degrees from her quite a few times in the three years since they'd been married and even more in the past few days since she'd gotten sick. Instead of replying he just made his way over to her and scooped her up gently into his arms, carrying her back to their bed and laying her down. She just sniffed and turned away from him, curling into a dejected ball. Rolling his eyes and biting back his irritation Zuko reached for the mug of tea he had placed next to the bed.

"Here." No response. "It's Uncle's secret recipe," he wheedled. "The one you really like."

He saw her perk up and smirked at his small victory. Slowly she turned again, sitting up and taking the tea from him. She took a small, tentative sip and then raised her eyebrows in delighted shock.

"But Iroh's still in Ba Sing Se…?" she questioned. At Zuko's affirmative nod she became even more confused. "Then how…?"

"I made it," Zuko responded a little tightly. At her wide-eyed shock he scowled even more. "I _can_ make tea, you know!"

She just blinked and took another sip. And then another. Finally she looked up and asked, "How many tries did it take you to get it this near to perfect?" He scowled heavily and did not say anything, but she seemed to read his answer in his stony silence. Her expression softened and she placed the cup down before sitting up and wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling him down next to her in the bed. "That was sweet," she murmured as she nuzzled into him. "Thank you."

His scowl turned into a smirk as she snuggled closer. Her breath was not the freshest despite the tea but it had been quite a few days since she'd been in such a happy mood with him and so he wisely stayed silent. Smugly he thanked his uncle for his good directions on how to make the tea. Who knew one of the old man's 'Getting Women' methods would actually work? Their peace, however, was short lived. Not three minutes later the door to their chambers flew open and the Avatar himself bounced in happily, all smiles and boyish enthusiasm despite the fact that he had left his teenage years behind him.

"Morning, Zuko!" he chirped brightly, folding himself into the settee at the bottom of their bed. "Morning, Katara! How're you feeling?"

Zuko had to snigger at the way Aang's huge grin faltered under the amazing power of Katara's glare. And she didn't even raise her head from where it was resting against his arm.

"Er… okay then…" The Airbender shifted rather nervously. "That's… actually why I'm here." He shifted his gray eyes to Zuko. "None of the books in the royal library really had any information about the disease and all the healers and sages are too busy with patients to sit down and explain…"

He trailed off hopefully and Zuko sighed, absently beginning to play with a wild lock of Katara's hair. It figured he'd be saddled with the role of storyteller.

"Well, nobody's really sure when the sickness started. For a long time it utterly perplexed our people because its beginning symptoms are identical to that of stomach flu. But this illness, if left untreated, spreads from the stomach to the lungs and starts eating away at the lining and, from what I've gathered, fills them with excess fluid and a whole lot of other nasty things. So in the old days this sickness claimed people left, right and center. By the time the healers realized that there was a new disease around many people had already died and many more had picked up the illness."

"But we were told it's not easily contagious?" Aang puzzled.

"No, nowadays it isn't. To get it in this day and age your blood has to mix with the infected blood of another." He scowled down at the lightly dozing Katara. "Which is why I wanted you to wear gloves."

She opened her eyes and glared at him. "I can't use my healing abilities if I'm wearing gloves," she snapped.

"You can't use your healing abilities at all if you're stuck in bed with the same illness you were so determined to help fight," he shot back at once.

"I didn't see him bleeding anywhere!" she protested. "And I wasn't bleeding either! I have no idea how it transferred!"

As Zuko opened his mouth to retort Aang hurriedly stepped in, knowing that if they began to argue it would be ages before he got the whole story. "But back then it was easier to get?"

Zuko and Katara scowled at each other for a moment longer before Zuko turned back to the younger man. "Yeah. Back then it was still airborne, or something. Or whatever actually causes the illness was plentiful. Even today, when we have medicine to destroy the illness, we don't know everything about it. Nobody can trace its origins further than the day it suddenly started appearing here. It's a complete mystery."

"Is that why it's not named?" the Avatar questioned next.

Zuko shrugged, causing Katara's head to rise and fall with his shoulder. She moaned her protest but didn't move. "Because they knew so little about it they couldn't find a name fitting. And so they left it until they could find out more. By the time they finally discovered the flower that proved to be the cure everybody had taken to calling it the Unnamed Curse. And they decided to just leave it like that."

"The worst I ever got in the Water Tribe," Katara piped up savagely, "was a cold. I come here and I get something that destroys my stomach and could potentially destroy my lungs and cause me to _die _from choking on my own bodily fluid."

"If you continue to take the medicine," Zuko replied in a growl, "then you'll be just fine."

Aang took this as his cue to leave, hurriedly making up some excuse that neither the Firelord nor the Firelady seemed to hear. As he scurried out the room and down the hall he had to shake his head in wonder at the great mystery that was the relationship between Zuko and Katara. About ten minutes after he left a very feminine shoe sailed through the open door, bounced on the opposite wall of the passage and then thudded to the floor with a satisfied smack. A moment later the Firelord retreated from the room, scowling and rather angry. He yelled something back into the chambers he had just backed out from, completely unaware of the blissfully ignorant servant that scurried around the corner. Just as the servant realized that she was not alone the missing mate to the previously flying shoe sailed from the room as well. Zuko gracefully leapt to the side to avoid it, and it instead rebounded and headed straight for the poor serving girl.

Said girl shrieked and promptly dropped the vase she was carrying. Zuko, alerted by the sound, spun around and caught sight of the girl being smacked through the face by his wife's shoe. Automatically, warrior instincts still perfectly honed, Zuko lunged forward and tried to grab the vase as it fell. The smooth material slipped through his fingers, though, and he was left to watch as it hit the floor and shattered. Because he hadn't anticipated just how much the vase would shatter, his hands remained outstretched in their futile attempt to stop the falling vase. A few moments later, though, he was cursing and pulling them to his chest as chunks of pottery flew everywhere, sharp and rather big. Only because of his desire to maintain his dignity did Zuko not put his suddenly cut and bleeding hand to his mouth.

The servant, for her part, just stood and stared, looking utterly dazed. But the sight of her Firelord's blood that assaulted her view when Zuko removed his fingers to assess the damage to his sliced hand seemed to snap her out of her daze. She dropped to the ground so fast Zuko was sure she had fainted. But even as he directed his gaze down to her in shock she began to move, swiftly picking up the pieces of vase as she howled apologies in every form a person could. Zuko, taken off guard by the situation, just stood and held his fingers over the cut on his hand.

As quickly as she had bent down the servant was up again, arms full of shattered vase. He opened his mouth to warn her to be careful with the sharp edges when some of the pieces slipped from her fingers. This time he managed to catch the falling objects and watched in amusement as the servant nearly died of embarrassment at her second slip and then utter mortification as she actually had to touch Zuko's hands to retrieve the broken shards from him. Before he could gruffly and awkwardly tell her it was okay she had bowed once more and had fled out of sight.

Shaking his head, Zuko just turned and headed toward his library and the stack of letters awaiting him. Only when he reached for his quill did he realize that blood had somehow dripped all across the back of his hand. He sighed and grumpily ordered an all-too-willing servant to fetch him a bowl of water. It was not, he decided as he waited in frustration, a very good day for him.

x-x-x

It was four days later when Zuko got subjected to a round of shock and surprise that quite leveled up to the incident with the servant and the vase. Between his usual duties, the added meetings scheduled daily to discuss the (thankfully dwindling) strain of the Unnamed Curse and his sick and cranky wife Zuko had had very little time to pay attention to mediocre things such as his daily eating habits. And, so, if he'd had a loss of appetite in the previous four days it was understandable that he had not noticed. And if he'd been slightly more tired than he usually was at the end of the day or not feeling completely one hundred percent fine, could one really blame him for putting it down to the abovementioned problems and pushing on with his day? Of course not. At times like the ones the Firelord found himself in, you had to ignore what you could and focus on the big things like not losing half your nation to disease and not getting yourself gutted by your wife.

However, as good as Zuko had grown at ignoring-and-prioritizing since his rein began, he could not ignore it when his breakfast decided to re-visit him.

Still, the Firelord's first reaction to his very undignified and rather sudden vomiting (after thanking Agni that nobody else was around, of course) was complete shock. And then, as he hung over the railing and stared at the mess he'd made in the flowerbed below him, the rut his brain had settled into so that he could focus only on the important things seemed to even out. And, suddenly, Zuko could see all the little signs he'd missed over the past four days. He'd steadily been growing sick, but his natural stubbornness and the happenings around him had made him refuse to acknowledge it. The Firelord suppressed a groan as another wave of nausea consumed him, gripping onto the railing as though it was his only support in life. By the way his legs were shaking, that assessment actually wouldn't be very far off.

Zuko's stubbornness kicked back: there was no way he could have caught the Unnamed Curse. The only person he'd come into contact with that had it was Katara. And both of them had been careful not to bleed around each other. Alright, yes, he'd bitten her lip when they'd made out the other night. But what, exactly, was he supposed to do when his wife suddenly found desire in her body that hadn't been there for many days? He wasn't a fool: he knew when to take what he could and be happy about it. And, anyway, he had not bitten her that hard. It was simply impossible that Katara's blood and his had mixed.

And if Katara hadn't given it to him, then there was no way he could have gotten it. Which logically meant –

Oh, Agni above. The servant. The falling vase. The sharp pieces. His cut. Damn it! Damn it all to Koh's lair and beyond!

Frustrated, the Firebender allowed his head to fall to the rails with a thunk. The impact barely registered: his head was throbbing already. He didn't remember Katara complaining of a headache, but boy was his head pounding. He lifted his hands from the railing to massage his temples and found the appendages to be shaking. At least, he reflected rather absently, his legs appeared to be holding him. Gritting his teeth, the Firelord grudgingly acknowledged that he'd have to see a healer. Honestly he'd rather eat Sea Prunes for a week but… Oh, how he hated admitting he was sick! If only –

"Firelord Zuko!" Said Firebender turned to the panting servant, thoughts of a healer driven from his mercifully clear-ish mind. "Sire, a riot has started in the lower town! Something about stolen medicine…"

Without another word Zuko pushed himself from the railing and whirled after the servant who was babbling something about leading him to the general of his guard. Alright, so he'd go to the healer later. After he'd sorted out the riot. That's what he'd do. Certainly.

And, if he didn't get to it that evening he'd simply go the next day. After all, there were many better things to do. Besides, he wasn't _that _sick.

x-x-x

He hated the Fire Nation. Honestly, he seriously hated it. Damn it and its stupid illnesses. Hadn't Katara said that the worst she'd gotten from the South Pole was a cold? He could handle a cold. A cold was an inconvenience and a nuisance but it did not make him unable to eat. A cold did not turn the images before his eyes hazy at inopportune moments. And a cold, while causing congestion, never caused heaviness like _this _in his chest.

Zuko couldn't breathe. He'd been trying to deny that knowledge since he'd awoken that morning. But no matter how much he told himself it would get better in a moment it really didn't. And while he'd still been able to inhale – albeit noisily and rather shallowly – at the beginning of the meeting now the oxygen seemed to fight to escape his lungs every step of the way.

And – yes, on top of all that – there was still his pounding head, his shaking body and his rolling stomach to deal with. The only parts of his body, it seemed, that were not rebelling against him were his feet. No, scratch that – they were turning numb because he was sitting on them. Brilliant. Some man from somewhere – Zuko seriously wasn't bothered about details – was saying something, captivating the attention of those present. Shutting his eyes against the light of the fire surrounding him, Zuko prayed for the earth to swallow him so he could lie down and sleep. He didn't care where it happened – he just wanted to close his eyes and…

The Firelord suddenly realized he was panting. And yet, even with his rapid breathing, darkness was flickering on the edges of his vision. There was some invisible, powerful thing atop his chest, and it was squeezing to the point of pain. And as the Firebender fought for breath the pressure increased, bringing more pain but no relief. Suddenly there was a hazy form before him – familiar but unidentifiable in his state. The form was bending before him and he got a flash of blue on white skin. Oh. It was Aang.

Oh wasn't it so funny? He was unable to take in air whilst an Airbender was right there in front of him. That was very funny. He should tell somebody about that.

This was the last coherent thing Zuko remembered thinking. After that it was just pain, throbbing, no oxygen and blackness.

x-x-x

Coughing. Terrible, hacking fits of coughing that seemed to do nothing but snatch away the little bit of oxygen he was mercifully being given. The light of the world burnt his eyes and sent his throbbing head into an overdrive of agony and so he kept his eyes closed. But even behind darkened lids he could see images that made no sense and that plagued him on and on without rest. He could not speak, could not move, could not breathe. The only thing that stopped him from giving in to the pressure and pain and senselessness was her. Her strong voice. Her cool hands. Her body supporting his shaking, aching one. She was there. And that was enough.

He could never quite grasp what she was saying, though, before unconsciousness claimed him again. When he was next allowed a brief moment of half-clarity, the cycle of coughing and pain would begin again.

x-x-x

Slowly, the sight of his ceiling came into focus. After a long moment he realized that his confusion was mostly attested to the fact that the light in the room was funny and his pounding head could not work out why. He let his head flop to the side and after a second he was able to attest that the light was weird because the curtains were drawn and only a small torch had been lit. How odd.

The next realization that trickled through was that the reason he was incoherent was quite possibly because he wasn't getting enough oxygen to his brain. That would also mean, then, that the strange ragged sound he was hearing was coming from his own attempts to draw breath. Blinking, he forced himself to take a deeper breath. To his relief, more oxygen obediently flowed into his lungs. It was not enough – not what he was used to getting – but it was enough and not nearly as painful as he'd expected.

Zuko's change in breathing seemed to be a trigger. No sooner had he gotten into the rhythm of breathing semi-normally than the bed beneath him shifted. Abruptly, he was looking up into the worried face of his wife.

"Hi." His voice sounded terrible even to his own ears.

Katara's eyes narrowed. "You," she snarled, "are an idiot! A stupid, moronic, _idiot_! You _knew _how the illness progressed! You sat right here, on this very bed, and told Aang about it! You kept hounding _me _about taking the medicine! And then what do you do? You go and let it progress until it's practically killing you! You're an _idiot_, Zuko! Idiot!"

A flare of indignation and anger flashed across the Firelord, but he didn't have the strength to do more than glare slightly at his ranting wife. Seeing he was not about to interrupt her Katara went into her fully-fledged rant mode, telling him off as though he were a retarded six-year-old. She only stopped when he began to cough, his lungs apparently not liking the extra work he was giving them.

"Easy." Soothingly she stroked his hair, inching closer so that she could be ready to lift him if he went into a coughing fit. "It's alright."

Only when he registered the coolness of her hands and the dampness of his hair did he understand the half-baked memories and his still-befuddled state. He frowned at the realization as Katara reached around him and brought a cup to his lips. He would have refused to drink if it weren't for the murderous look in her eye. As expected, the concoction tasted horrible. The flowered cure for the Unnamed Curse was definitely part of the brew – everybody insisted it was the only thing that smelt and tasted like rotting metal. Until he'd tasted it he'd thought that they were crazy: metal couldn't rot. After gagging down three mouthfuls of whatever Katara was forcing on him, the Firelord knew that if metal _could _rot, it would taste as dreadful as that.

He shut his eyes and Katara stroked his forehead again in soothing, rhythmic patterns. His breathing was easier but still a chore, something that was really beginning to irk him. And then the shivers came, and his frustration mounted.

"It's not fair." He could barely get the words out. "You didn't get a fever! I'm a Firebender! I shouldn't get fevers!"

The Waterbender shushed him, still stroking his forehead but now with a rather strange expression on her face. She looked… nervous. And strangely guilty. But he was sure his befuddled mind was just playing tricks on him.

"Zuko," she started suddenly. "I… er… when you were brought in…" She took a deep breath, seemingly needing it as much as he did. "I was confused by the fever, too. And by the fact that quite a few of your symptoms didn't match mine. Like how you were only sick for about three days and mine lasted longer. So I went to the healer and…"

She fidgeted. Zuko blinked. Silence reigned for a few moments while the Firelord tried to puzzle it out.

"You don't" – a raspy inhale – "have the Curse?" Katara shook her head, somehow not meeting his eyes even as she started to rub his chest soothingly. "But then… what? And…" He misread her nervous hesitation. "Contagious?" he gasped out.

Her soothing circles increased and she waited for him to breathe easier before she spoke again. "You have the Unnamed Curse," she told him quietly. "So relax: I can't get it unless you bleed on me." Zuko did relax a bit and she smiled slightly. "And you can't get what I have. Really. There's no way."

The Firelord's pounding, befuddled head was confused. "Y'okay?"

Katara fidgeted – actually fidgeted – and studied the blanket beneath her. "Yes." She dragged out the word.

"Cured?" Zuko insisted, befuddled and suspicious.

"Well… I… er… no." She blushed. "I… it…" The Water Tribe woman blew out a breath of air exasperatedly. "I'm going to be sick for a while still," she told Zuko's hands and not his face. "And, contrary to the name, it won't just be in the morning."

Zuko continued to look at her in incomprehension, even as she finally raised her eyes to lock with his. What was she going on about? Was she sick or not? Why hadn't she been cured yet? And why was that phrase she'd just used so familiar? Wait… Suki had used it once, hadn't she? Yes. Suki had been grousing about the misconception of the name that summer on Ember Island. The summer the Kyoshi Warrior had been…

Oh great spirits. Oh Agni. Sweet flames of the Firebending Masters.

The penny dropped, and Zuko was sure he'd stopped breathing again. His jaw nearly unhinged. "You're… you mean… you…" He gaped at Katara's stomach, expecting it to suddenly enlarge before his eyes.

"Zuko." Her voice was gentle, but the undercurrent she'd been hiding before was slipping through. And then her hidden emotions burst out and there was joy and pride and so much fierce love in her expression it rendered him speechless. "Zuko, we're going to have a baby."

A baby. Had she really just said baby? She had. She really had. He was going to have a baby. Some small explosion happened in the pit of his stomach and he felt as if he should be leaping around the room like a hyperactive toddler. Warmth that even he as a Firebender did not know raced across his aching body. At once, there were a million images rushing around in his pounding and still-confused mind. Most of them were memories of Sokka with his son altered to show himself and his unnamed, unborn child. His child. He was going to be a father.

And then that penny dropped too.

No. No! He was going to be a _father_? He couldn't be a father! He didn't know how! No, Agni, no! No, no, no!

"Zuko! Calm down! Zuko, you're hyperventilating. Zuko!"

He couldn't breathe again, and this time there was an absence of calm that told him to relax and just try and breathe as deeply as he could. No, this time there was panic. And the panic only increased as he caught the fear in Katara's eyes as his wife turned his head to look at her. Would that be what he'd be seeing in a few years? Would he terrify her and his child? Would she feel the need to run away too? Oh, Agni… what had he done?

He welcomed the darkness as it came rushing toward him.

What had he done?

x-x-x

The next time Zuko became aware he felt worse than before. Lingering images haunted the back of his eyes, and he had to open them to chase them away. He couldn't quite remember the full image or thought, but he knew the gist of them. He knew he'd turned to Ozai behind his own closed lids. He knew he'd made the most horrible things happen to some small child… After a few moments he surmised that his fever must have spiked over the unknown hours he'd slept for and robbed him of more of his strength while flinging terrible futures at his weary mind. Thankfully, though, while the pounding in his head was worse and his ability to move was even more deterred the pressure in his chest had lessoned. He could now breathe with a semblance of normalcy and without that much pain or coughing.

Just as that thought crossed his mind he began to cough, cursing the fates at their cruel humour. For a few heartbeats he was left to hack by himself, but as the fit continued a figure suddenly darted forward and gently hauled him into a sitting position, silently rubbing his back.

"Shh. It's alright. Easy. Just breathe."

Eventually the coughing ceased and Katara gently lowered him back into bed. She barely pulled the covers over him and then made as if to leave. Zuko managed to grab her wrist and feebly hold her back. When her eyes reluctantly met his they were met with confusion and bewilderment beneath the lingering haze. She sighed, resolve melting.

"I'll only stay if you promise not to get so excited again." Her lips thinned. "Do you realize you've been completely incoherent for the past two days?"

And then reality returned, and Zuko remembered what had caused him to give in to the darkness and relief of unconsciousness before. Oh, sweet Agni. He was going to be a father. His body tensed, and seeing his reaction and the dawning memory, Katara tensed too. Suddenly, she looked upset beyond words.

"You never said," she accused in a trembling voice, "that you didn't want kids. And seeing as the Fire Nation needs an heir I assumed… I mean… I thought…"

"Katara." It was forced but he was desperate. "Katara. I can't be… I don't…" He shut his eyes and grit his teeth. "You've seen Ozai," he finally wheezed out.

A beat of surprised silence "Let me get this straight." The Waterbender's voice was full of some barely-suppressed emotion that Zuko didn't have the strength to figure out. "You want kids, but you don't because you're scared of yourself. You think," she was accusing now, "that you'll somehow ruin their lives."

"Not think. Know."

There was a moment where nothing happened. And then Katara's hand brushed across his cheek in the dull parody of a slap. Zuko's eyes popped open in utter shock. The Firelady's eyes were on fire: smoldering, terrifying shards of blue that molded into an inferno.

"You're a moron," she snarled at him. "Look at Toph. Is she completely like either of her parents? _Is she_?" Zuko, shocked into silence, shook his head. "And Ty Lee? Mai? Heru? No. Nobody suddenly becomes like their parents overnight! Now I cannot speak about your mother because I have not had the privilege of meeting her. But I do know one thing." She glared daggers at her husband. "You, _Prince _Zuko of the Fire Nation, are not Ozai. And if you _ever _think like that again I will hang you out to dry like I did with Sokka. Try me!"

The two rulers stared at each other for a long while before Katara's gaze softened. "Zuko. You're going to make mistakes. I will, too. Being a parent doesn't have a theory or method or science to it. But you'll do so many right things that the mistakes will also turn to blessings, somehow. I love you. I know you. I trust you. You would make a good father." She swallowed, clasping his hand in hers and suddenly imploring him. "You are going to make a good father."

Zuko shut his eyes with a muted groan that had nothing to do with his illness. Not realizing this, Katara leapt up and returned shortly with the disgusting remedy, trying to hide her sniffing and failing. When he was done swallowing obediently he allowed Katara to put down the cup before he yanked her down beside him. She was weary to place her head on his chest, still conscious of his laboured breathing. But when he did not relent his tugs she cautiously laid her cheek on his shoulder.

They lay like that for ages. Or perhaps it seemed like ages only to Zuko's mind. All he did know was that in that time – however long it was – images sultrily danced across his closed eyelids. Images that were very unlike those that had plagued his fevered dreams over the previous two days. Suddenly he allowed his eyes to open and he looked at his wife.

"Katara?" She gazed up quickly, eyes watery.

"What's wrong? Are you okay?"

"'Tara. We're gonna have a baby." His first reaction to the news was back. He couldn't stop his smile. "_We _are going to have a baby."

She didn't miss the smile or the stressed word. Her answering beam was enough to light up the world. "Yes, love. We are."

And despite the lingering pain and doubt and the horrid images, Zuko was happy and assured.

* * *

><p><strong>AN 2: <strong>*remains in super secret hiding place*Why is it that I seem to be very keen to give Zuko respiratory ailments these days? That's just odd…


	10. Myth

**AN:** Believe it or not, this one was actually written in my head for a long time. When I first got the prompt my mind immediately jumped to Blutara or something with the Blue Spirit and the Painted Lady and blah blah. But if you've read my Zutara Week stuff (I don't really recommend it) then you'll know that my muse is stubborn when it comes to said spirits. Usually it never wants to let me write a fic with them in it if the prompt is too obvious.

This time was no different. But after sulking for about an hour my muse gave me an actual idea for this fic. So I was happy, because it was basically written. In fact, after 'Games' this one was probably the first prompt that had direction. So what took me so long, you may ask. Well, firstly real life came around and kicked me in the behind. Then I started work. And then I read the spoilers to 'The Promise' and… I dunno. Maybe I've just been reading and writing too many fanfics of how things would go post-series. The comic left me rather… disappointed. And not only because of pairings.

(I know for a certain fact that Bryke spelt it 'Firelord' in the original series. Go look at the episode name and the credits and the back of the DVD box and the Internet etc. It's 'Firelord'. I nearly cried when I found out two years ago because I had to go and change all of my fics and re-upload them with the correct spelling. And now? In the comic it's spelt 'Fire Lord'. I want to headdesk myself into oblivion. Forget that:: I'm keeping with the original spelling!)

But anyway. That's a rant for another day. What I'm trying to explain is that the spoilers kinda made my fic AU. But in the end I decided I didn't really care and I typed it out anyway. Which brings us to the present. Last prompt, guys. I'd love to be able to tell you I'll never hurt Zuko again in my writing but… I guess we'll have to see. Hehehehe. Thanks a huge, huge, huge bunch to everybody who stuck with this thing. Thanks to Deffie for the prompts. And thanks to every reader, whether you liked it or not. =] See you guys around.

**Warning:** Probably AU (if you're following 'The Promise' etc) and with undertones of Zutara. (No matter how blatant they make it that it will never happen my heart cannot change.)

**Disclaimer: **Avatar The Last Airbender/Legend of Aang is not mine. Nor are any of its characters. Nor is a plane ticket to America so I can actually buy the comic.

* * *

><p><strong><span>Myth<span>**

If he had to be completely honest with himself, Zuko would admit he didn't always take his uncle's advice to heart. There were, however, some titbits of wisdom from the old general that he'd soaked in as soon as they'd been gifted to him, storing them away in the recesses of his mind for the rest of his days. One such flower of wisdom was this: always figure out the plans and motives of your enemies. With their motives come their weaknesses and weaknesses are what defeats a man.

The way things were right then, however, made it seem that even Uncle Iroh's best advice was sometimes wrong. Zuko knew the plan and he knew most of the motive. But he was nowhere closer to escaping than he had been when he'd first been forcefully chained to the wall of his own vacation home.

"I know you know where he is."

Hatred filled the mismatched golden eyes as they glared at the leader of his captors. In response to the man's probing, Zuko spat some of the blood out of his mouth and at the man's feet. His captor snarled slightly but made a conscious and obvious effort not to step back. Zuko smirked at the man's disgust, the expression mutilated by his split and bleeding lip.

"Firelord Zuko. Our fight is not with you. We do not wish to harm you. We only - "

Zuko snorted, ignoring how painful the gesture was. "Right. And you did such a great job of not harming me."

The man's body stiffened even more and his previously cajoling tone became sharp. "Tell us where he is and we will not have to lay another finger on you."

"I cannot do that," Zuko snapped right back, turning his glare onto the five other men that stood, still as statues, in the room. The Firebender glared especially viciously at the Earthbender that had moulded him to the wall in the first place.

The leader leant in closer, his golden eyes gleaming through the holes in his mask. "I am not going to ask nicely again, Firelord. Tell me where the Airbender is."

Zuko's nostril's flared as his temper spiked again. Most of the fourty-odd members that belonged to the group currently holding him were from the Fire Nation. This betrayal – having to stare into the eyes of his own people and know they would risk everything for murder – made the situation much worse. Anger boiling in his blood, Zuko's words formed themselves without much conscious thought.

"Right now he's probably on his way back here." The Firelord hoped Momo had gone straight to his friend and had somehow alerted Aang. Katara insisted that the lemur was smart but… Unfortunately, he was their only hope. "And I'm sure he's got reinforcements. Have you ever seen the Avatar angry, _General_? Have you ever truly witnessed his power? Don't worry if you haven't, because you will when he returns. The _offspring_ of the men who made sure every one of his kind were wiped out… The offspring who want to continue to make sure the Air Nomads _remain _extinct… Do you have any idea what he will do to you?"

Zuko knew he was half-bluffing: Aang's anger and Avatar State never lasted and the young Airbender's personality made it impossible for him to truly hurt somebody. But these men did not know that, and he was bargaining that they had heard enough stories to believe his embellishments. The sudden nervous shifting that went about the room proved to him that they did believe it. He worked to hide a smirk. The leader huffed and drew himself up taller, suddenly reminding Zuko of why he'd made it to an general in Ozai's army.

"Our ancestors had the correct idea," he told his Firelord through clenched teeth. "The Airbenders and their _kind _were a disgusting brood of heathens who undermined all the spirituality of the great Fire Nation. They claimed to be better than us – purer than us. They deserved to be wiped off the face of the earth – them and their customs and their unholy bending! So our forefathers convinced Sozin that to destroy the Avatar he had to destroy every one of those _creatures_."

Zuko interrupted him before he could go any further, working a sneer onto his face as he taunted, "Tell Aang that when he returns. Let him hear that. I'm sure he'll _love _it."

Another shift ran around the room like a ripple in a lake, but this time their leader held firm. "He is no Firebender – he knows not how to truly harness the life of the sun because it is not something you can be taught. This lack of utter consumption by our element will make him weaker against us. And it is new moon today: no Waterbending at all."

Renewed courage seeped back into the atmosphere of the room, and Zuko became desperate. He had to wear them down mentally as much as possible to give Aang some advantage. "He still has another two elements! You have two Earthbenders here and neither of them is as skilled as he is! And then there is his native element, the one you deem so _unholy _and _unnatural_ that you are willing to _slaughter _to be rid of it." The hatred and disgust seeped out of the chained Firebender's soul and into his words as they were hurled at his captors.

Zuko realized his mistake of returning the topic to Airbending almost at once. The distraction of Aang and his power melted away, and they were all suddenly right back where they started. Their leader bent down before Zuko so the Firelord was staring directly at the concealing mask. He gave the painted wood a poisonous glare, wondering why the man even bothered with the disguise when Zuko knew exactly who he was. He could never forget the voice of the man who was willing to send numerous Fire Nation _boys _to die. He could never forget the eyes of the man who was supposed to face him in the Agni Kai.

"Firelord Zuko. Tell us where the Airbender is."

Zuko's chin rose in pure defiance and he glared back without falter. He'd never been afraid to face this man, and he never would be. "He's flying here to deliver your doom."

The old general's foot connected with his torso with surprising strength, taking Zuko off guard enough to draw a gasp from his lips. Somehow, his captor had managed to aim for the same place the others had connected with him before and the blow to the already tender spot was near to agony. Before he could get his breath back two of the previously silent men of the background were upon him at their leader's command. The Firelord tried to remain defiantly upright, but the blows to his bruised ribs had him instinctively curling inwards. One man deftly struck him across the face and he tasted fresh blood. The kick following the strike to his face caused a sickening snap to vibrate through the air. It took every inch of Zuko's willpower not to make a sound.

"Enough." Obediently the two masked sidekicks returned to their line of equally silent peers. Zuko continued to stare at the ground, struggling to breathe when every slight inhale was torture. The leader stepped closer and the Firelord forced his face upward so he could glare into his eyes like a man. The movement of trying to sit up nearly stole what little breath he had left. The old general chuckled darkly. "That was completely unnecessary, Firelord. And if you cooperate it does not have to happen again. Now-"

Zuko spat a mixture of blood and saliva onto the spot where the mask left the man's cheek free. A noise of disgust pulled itself from the man's throat as he hastily scrubbed the gunk away from him. Zuko wanted to laugh but didn't have the air. With furious steps his captor strode forward and grabbed a fistful of Zuko's hair, using it to yank the Firelord's head up. This time, the younger Firebender was unable to keep the grimace off his face.

"We," the leader thundered, "are here to continue with our ancestors' noble quest. The Airbenders must be purged from the land! We allowed the Avatar to go free because he was needed for the world. But we shall _not _sit idly by and watch another of that race inhale _our _air! My patience has worn thin, Firelord Zuko! _Where _is the new Airbending child?"

Zuko's face twisted into more hate. "I cannot tell you."

The grip on his hair intensified. "The-"

"I cannot tell you because he does not exist!" Zuko exploded. "Avatar Aang is the _last _Airbender – your Agni-accursed families saw to that! You have come here and risked _everything _for a mere myth. A _myth_, General. "

"That is not true!" Zuko could hear the note of panic in the man's voice, and he relished in it.

"Avatar Aang has two children, and neither of them bend air. Whatever your spies have told you has been nothing but a list of wishes turned into lies."

Even as the general snarled and proceeded to rip the hair right off Zuko's head in his rage there was a shout of alarm from downstairs. Not a moment later, a chirping form settled itself on the window and fixed the room's occupants with the closest thing to a glare a Flying Lemur can muster. Zuko had never been more relieved to see the animal in his entire life.

"The only Airbender in this world," Zuko continued in triumph, "is the one who is currently downstairs taking care of the rest of your men."

Cursing, his captor released his hair and the momentum slammed his head against the wall he was chained to. Through the sudden haze in his mind, Zuko heard the leader barking out orders before rushing from the room. Finally at peace, the Firelord allowed himself to sag against the wall, groaning as his body protested to every movement and breath. Momo chirped once more and then disappeared to presumably go and help his Airbending friend. A moment later, the sounds of a fully-fledged battle began. Zuko's attempts to free himself were beyond unsuccessful and frustrating and he finally had to resign himself to just waiting this battle out.

Almost as soon as he'd made this decision the sound of a door opening broke the silence of his room. Immediately he was on the alert, eyes snapping to the door of the room. The door, however, remained closed. Realization struck a moment later and his gaze instead flew to the wall. Sure enough, the secret doorway set in the wall was slowly sliding open.

"They could come back at any moment!" Zuko hissed at once. "Get back in there, fool!"

"Cut it out with the insults, already!" Katara's voice hissed back from the slowly widening opening. "We're not teenagers anymore! All I want to do is get you in here with me so-" The Waterbender's lithe body appeared as she spoke, but her words cut off as soon as she caught sight of him. Blue eyes widened at once and a gasp tore itself from her throat. "Oh, _Zuko_!"

With difficulty he managed to roll his eyes at her. "I did not spend an hour being degraded by that scum only to have you practically hand yourself over to them. Get back into the secret bunker and wait until Aang is completely done with sending them all of to the Boiling Rock or the Spirit World."

She ignored him, as always, and instead quickly hurried to his side. Her face was anxious and anguished and an uncomfortable feeling seeped up from Zuko's stomach and spread through his body. "Katara-"

"Shh." Almost automatically she reached up and rubbed away some of the blood from his face. And then she seemed to realize what she was doing, and she let go as though his skin had burned her. "Hold still."

From her belt she drew the knife he had thrust into her hands when he'd forced her into hiding when the men had first come. Being a Master Waterbender she had not gone into hiding quietly, but with Sokka, Suki, Aang, Toph and the moon absent she had had no other choice. He suddenly thanked the Spirits that she hadn't decided to leap in and save him somewhere during his friendly little chat with his captors. That would have been just like her. And it would have ended in disaster. After quickly realizing that the knife would not be able to crack open the manacles of rock around his wrists, Katara instead used the weapon to carve at the wood of the walls. Zuko huffed slightly at this blatant destruction of his property, but was too anxious to get her out of sight and too sore to pick a fight about it.

Finally the board he had been bound to cracked away from the rest of the wall and he was able to at least lower his arms while Katara dug him out the rest of the way. The action of dropping his arms caused an expected twinge in his torso and an unexpected throb in his shoulders. Oh, great. On top of being bruised and broken he was also going to have stiff muscles. Wonderful. Sulking slightly at this information he glowered as Katara worked and made his impatience known with a lot of teeth grinding and glaring that the Waterbender did not appreciate at all.

Katara finished chipping away the wood from his left hand and allowed him all of a second to use his newly freed hands to rub his chafed wrists before she went on the attack. Hands grabbed his face – fingers careful not to touch the space that was, ironically, only hers to touch – and her eyes catalogued the damage with guilty aching. Zuko could not seem to bring himself to ask her to stop or to remove her hand. All he could do was stare at her and both hate and love the emotions that flickered across her face. A noise too close for comfort broke their respective gazes and Katara suddenly leapt to her feet.

"Come on," she urged him, leaning down and grabbing hold of his arm to pull him up.

Bracing himself and pleading silently that he would not fall over or cry out, Zuko allowed her to pull him up. Pain assaulted him from at least three different sides and his knees buckled as soon as he was upright. Automatically her arms reached around him to steady him, her hands gripping and crushing the ribs that had been broken. He nearly passed out on the spot from the pain.

Instantly her grip went higher. "Sorry! I'm so sorry!"

"S'fine," he told her through gritted teeth, legs shaking beneath his usually manageable weight.

"Where can I…?"

Her hands flittered around him in panicked uncertainty. He didn't have the heart to tell her that _everywhere_ hurt. Instead, he guided her grip to a place where the pain would be bearable. He hated the fact that he had to lean on her so heavily as they made their way over to the entrance. At least he was able to keep his face blank of winces and grimaces so that the worry on her face did not deepen. Crawling into the opening and then half-crouching down the low passage was a form of torture Zuko never wanted to endure again. By the time they reached the underground safe room, the Firelord was panting and shaking as though he was half-frozen.

Katara propelled him toward the bed at once and gently lowered him down, pretending to ignore the way his face tightened in pain. Before he could stop her she unbound his tunic and pulled it away from is chest so she could assess the damage. What she found made her heart ache and her stomach disappear.

"Zuko…" She didn't know what else to say. How could she convey all her sorrow and all her guilt and all her selfish gratitude into words?

"Forget it," he told her shortly, pulling the material over his battered torso and leaning back against the cushions with obvious relief.

She watched his laboured breathing for a while before her emotions overflowed into the silence. "I can't even heal you!" she moaned. "I really have no power when there's no moon."

"Katara." His patience was even thinner than usual. "It's fine."

Biting her lip, the healer turned away from him and headed toward the shelving on the furthest wall. Loathing the circumstances that made them necessary she reached for the folded pile of bandages before she gripped the water skin that was always at her hip. Returning to the Firelord she wet one of the strips of linen and then firmly pulled his hands away from his torso. Gold eyes snapped open at once to glare at her, but she matched the glower.

"I need to at least clean you up and bandage you. You're not going to lie there in blood and untreated wounds until the moon returns."

Grudgingly he conceded and Katara washed away his blood with her hands instead of her bending, suddenly wishing she'd never taken her healing ability for granted in the slightest. She tried to work in silence so that Zuko could rest, but too many worries floated around in her mind for her to ignore.

"Do you know if… if Sokka…?"

"I didn't hear from him. I just saw Momo and _heard _Aang. I'm sure your kids are still with him and Suki on the next island." A fervent prayer wailed in her heart. He seemed to read the tension in her silence, for he suddenly looked at her sternly. "They're _fine_, Katara. They are the children of you and Aang. And despite Sokka being… well, _Sokka_, he's proven to be a good parent to your nieces and nephew. Neither he nor Suki will let anything happen to-"

She pressed too hard on his broken side and he broke off to wince. She flinched at his expression. "Sorry." Her lip began to tremble. "I'm so sorry. I should have gone with them. When they all tried so hard to convince me we should all go as a family. But I was just so tired and I thought I could sleep today while they were being entertained and Aang was away at that meeting and…"

"Katara, stop." It was half a demand and half a plea – Zuko did not do well with emotional females. "There was no way you would know what would happen. They planned this well. They chose the one day there was only you and I present and when it was new moon. This isn't your fault."

Her sniffing was interrupted by another person starting to cry. Quickly, with tears still threatening to overflow, she bandaged Zuko's torso. Then she half ran to the makeshift crib tucked into the corner, reaching in and scooping up her baby. Soothingly she murmured nonsense to him until his wails turned to snuffles and then to silence. Suddenly her gaze shifted from the child in her arms to Zuko, who had been watching her.

"Thank you," she whispered, the emotion so raw in her voice and eyes that it took his breath away. "Thank you so, so much. If they'd… If he'd…" She clutched the baby closer to her chest in horror at the mere thought.

Slightly embarrassed, Zuko looked away. "You're… welcome." Rocking her baby, Katara moved back to the bed. Gently she sat on the side not occupied by Zuko and unfurled her arms slightly so the Firelord could gaze upon the young child nestled in them. Looking down at the small, defenceless innocent, Zuko suddenly hated his captors any more. "Did you have to be so vocal about him being an Airbender?" His anger was born of fear of what might have been if they'd found the entrance to Katara's hiding place. "How do you even know this young?"

"Aang says he… _felt _it. I don't know what that means but… If he says our son is an Airbender, then I believe him. Aang was so overjoyed to have another of his kind in the world that he…" She was suddenly angry. "We shouldn't _have _to keep it a secret! We should be allowed to rejoice with the rest of the world that _our son_ is the first Airbender to be born in a _hundred years_! The war is supposed to be _over_!"

"There will always be another war somewhere, Katara," Zuko answered her quietly. "Peace can only last for so long."

Blue eyes turned sorrowful and desperate at the conviction in his voice that he only had because of years and years of personal suffering. Suffering and strife that had yet to end. Gently she placed her son on the bed beside Zuko and then picked up the cloth and began to bathe his face. He tensed a bit but made no move to stop her.

"Why couldn't you just pretend Tenzin and I were someplace else? You could have led them away and then they wouldn't have… done this to you."

"The place I sent them to would have innocent people there for them to hurt. I will not let anybody else get hurt because of me again, Katara. Especially not _my _people." Pride for him flowed through her body like liquid fire. The world was lucky to have him. Then his gaze dropped away from hers and his head turned so she was no longer touching him. "And I had to _make sure _they would not be able to hurt Tenzin."

It was only because she knew him so well – only because he was one of her very best friends in the universe – that she picked up what he really meant. She shut her eyes. "When are you going to stop punishing yourself for your mistakes?" she whispered.

"Never." The answer was immediate and full of conviction. When she opened her eyes again she found them locked with his burning gold ones. "What I did… I need to make sure I atone for it. And that I _never _do it again."

"You won't-"

"I nearly did, Katara! Again! After _everything _that happened I nearly… Aang was on the brink of _killing_ me because of who I became again!"

The Waterbender shook her head for the double purpose of negating his words and ridding herself of the memories. "That was then. This is now." He started to answer but she cut across him. "I trust you. I trust you with everything that I am and everything I hold dear." Blue bored into gold. "I trust you with _everything_."

The unspoken exception to that rule sliced through both of them like a knife. Tenzin chose that moment to whine uncomfortably. Katara reached out for him, but his baby fists curled around Zuko's hand instead. As soon as the Firelord's finger was tightly in his grasp he stopped fussing. Every muscle in Zuko's body tensed at the unsuspected and unfamiliar sensation. And then the surprise melted to an expression Katara could not name and would never be able to forget. Sensing her watching him, Zuko's gaze locked onto hers, his eyes still burning with that unnameable emotion.

And for one shivering second, reality altered. Zuko's face lost its bruising and the room moulded to one from the Fire Nation palace. The pendant around her neck was held there by Fire Nation silk and the baby between her and the Firelord had eyes the same colour as the ones she was starring at.

The shattering of this fantasy was more painful than she'd ever thought possible. Zuko looked away and gently removed his finger from Tenzin's grasp. "Aang should be rushing in to see if you're okay soon." She could not think that she imagined the tinge of jealousy in his voice.

Without replying, Katara suddenly lay down on the bed, curling Tenzin into her arms and trying to ignore how close Zuko was. They stared at each other, lying on different sides of the same bed with a child wedged between them in a way that was so achingly right yet decidedly wrong at the same time. They continued to look at each other, reading stories and unobtainable futures in each other's eyes until a victorious Aang came to reassure himself that his wife and youngest child were alright.

The tale of what happened on Ember Island was purposefully hushed, but variations of it managed to leak out anyway. With the retelling, some details got blurred, deleted or added until the reality of the day was shrouded in embellishments and exaggerations. Some of the retellings insisted that the Avatar had finished his battle only to walk in on his wife sleeping in the arms of the Firelord. These versions of the tale were always cast aside as rot by the general republic: _everybody _knew the feelings between the Avatar's wife and the Firebender were just a myth.


End file.
